Illusions of Victory
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: No one expected the events of the 2nd March 1974 to transpire. No one expected You Know Who to conquer the Ministry with such ease. However, unexpected tactics are required to hold onto power and, sometimes victories are not as glorious as they appear. Bellatrix Black had to learn that the hard way. B/V. AU
1. When It Fell

**A/N:** Onto my next multi chapter fic. This will be written for the Long Haul Competition (so weekly chapters are guaranteed) and the 100k competition (an indication of how long this fic will be. I'm very proud of it and it is set in 1974 and, from this point, it will be an AU. The main focus will be Bellatrix and Voldemort with a number of other side pairings (some of which are a surprise). The idea will be to explore what would really happen if Voldemort won and how the grass is always greener on the other side. Prepare for lots of surprises and get ready for the ride.

* * *

The quill was loaded with ink as it ran across the parchment, sprinkling words and pleas. It rose for only a moment as it was dunked into an inkpot before it returned to its frantic pace across the paper. Too much ink had obviously been applied, as the handwriting was blotchy and the black liquid tainted the dark red nail polish on the woman's fingers; the last remaining shred of her femininity.

A series of loud explosions, sounded above her. They were almost like the eruptions from bombs she had heard in her youth during the great muggle war. Her handwriting slipped upwards for a moment as a sprinkling of dust from the ornately engraved wooden ceiling flitted down onto her dark hair and robes, but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

Instead of glancing around at the failed charms on the window that was usually charmed to display false illusions of sunlight, she quickly scribbled her name at the bottom of the messy note.

No one had predicted this day would be upon them so soon. They had all noticed an escalation in Death Eater activity, but to imagine the Death Eaters would be as bold as to mount a direct attack on the Ministry itself had seemed preposterous. It might have been eight at night, when most of the personnel had gone home, though there was still a decent amount of Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Squad in attendance.

You Know Who must have thought he had the numbers.

It would seem he was correct.

Removing her wand from the pocket of her robe, she lifted it to multiply the note in front of her so she could send it to the Aurors who were not present at the Ministry.

As the sound of footsteps rocketing down the hallway reached her ears like a herd of elephants, she stopped. A knife went through her heart.

She had lost the chance.

Wrenching the parchment from her desk, she gripped it tightly in the hand as she scrunched it into a tight ball. Hesitatingly she raised herself to a not very impressive height of just over five feet. Her collared robes fluttered around her ankles as she stepped out from behind her thick sturdy wooden desk.

The footsteps grew louder and she strained her ears for the unpleasant sound of screams, but, thankfully, all she heard was the click of boots against the polished floors. They grew louder and louder until it stopped in front of her door. She paused and waited for the inevitable.

Like the eye of the storm had passed by and the battering winds had arrived, a jet of indigo light shone from underneath her door. It pierced her eyes as the door was thrown off its hinges and slammed into her soft woollen rug. The dust blew into her eyes, but she strained to look forward and to not flinch as five figures stepped into her office. Each wore familiar black robes and silver masks that hid their identities.

Her heart stopped beating. She could not defeat five Death Eaters.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and her grip on the parchment grew sweaty as she waited in silence. However, she did not lower her wand. She only stared straight ahead at the eyes that pepped through the holes in the masks.

"Millicent Bagnold," The first figure said his voice coarse and containing what sounded like a Russian accent, "Stand down and surrender your wand. Despite being Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, comply and you will be unharmed."

She did not want to. She did not want to obey Death Eaters. She knew what these people were like. She knew they were cruel and vile. She knew that being head of the department that extensively opposed them and a high ranking official could mean she would soon have a knife in her back. She also had to think about what would happen to her elderly muggleborn parents.

Still, logically she knew she did not have a chance of success.

"Of course," she murmured trying to keep her voice steady. There was no point fighting when she had five wand pointed at her. She could do it later when opposition would be wiser and more affective. She tried to keep her hand steady as she turned her wand so that the handle was facing the cloaked figures. "I assume I will be allowed my wand back soon. I am not a threat."

"We will see." One of the other Death Eaters sneered. Millicent was quite surprised to hear a woman's voice under the hood. She strode forward and snatched her wand from her reluctant grip. Despite having voluntarily surrendered her wand, she felt naked as her hand dropped to her side. "This does not mean you are not an enemy."

Millicent forced herself not to glare fire into the dark almost brown eyes of the woman who continued to glower at Millicent's naked face. "But, if I am not an enemy?"

No one replied. Millicent forced herself not to panic. Luckily, since her wand was collected, the band of Death Eaters did not seem interested in her.

"Come on," The woman said as she turned back to the group and gestured for them to follow her. "We have other opposition to crush."

"The Dark Lord did not make you the leader." A different male voice said his voice clipped and precise like someone who had been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. "Do not believe you are in charge."

Still standing in the middle of the room, Millicent moved back a little as the woman pointed her own wand at one of her comrades.

Even from the narrowing in the woman's eyes, Millicent knew she was someone to be feared. "Perhaps not now, but he will." Her voice was low and dangerous as she brought her hand to head. Tugging on her hood, black hair tumbled down in perfect waves before she wrenched off her mask. Porcelain skin, high cheekbones, pointed nose and an angular jaw were revealed. She was obviously an attractive young woman. "I just wanted to get that thing off. Now we won't need to hide our identities."

"You should be more careful." The cool voice of the Russian murmured, as not one of the other four Death Eaters made any attempt to remove their masks. "We are not finished yet."

"The Dark Lord will win. He has already won," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her dark eyes focused back on Millicent, but she was not angry. Instead she smiled in a way Millicent thought was perverse and unpleasant. "That means we will be working with each other rather soon Dear Millicent."

She grinned, her eyes alive as she pushed past the other men and out the door. They reluctantly followed.

Millicent let out a long breath she did not realise she had been holding in as she collapsed back on her elbows onto her desk.

How could they have lost? How could You Know Who have won?

* * *

There were some days working at St Mungos that Andromeda knew were too good to be true. When she was half way through a shift and had not faced any major catastrophes or rush of patients, she detected something would happen. Every time she had such thoughts, she wished she were wrong.

It was the case tonight.

William Jones had worked on the front desk of security in the Atrium at the Ministry and had been at his post just like every other day. He had been working night shift so perhaps he had slept in or perhaps he had spent the day with his wife, girlfriend, brother, mother or whoever he was particularly close to. It was meant to have been an ordinary day at work for him.

It has not been.

From what he had told Andromeda while she had struggled to heal the gaping wound in his side, he had been sitting at his desk in the empty atrium except for the late stragglers who were talking in groups or walking towards the fireplaces. He had been flicking through the Daily Prophet and he had not noticed anything amiss.

Until the screams had started.

He had barely had the chance to grasp his wand in his hand and look up at the hundreds of familiar dark robed figures that appeared out of fireplaces, before a curse had struck him in the chest and all had gone black.

Andromeda had her hands in his wounds for several hours until William had died. She had not even been allowed to mourn before she had turned to the next victim.

The rush had not stopped.

Hundreds of wounded had flooded into St Mungos with even the Waiting Room being used as an operating room. They had included Aurors, Magical Law Enforcement Squad, civilians, and even Death Eaters. She had not said anything to anyone. She had only done her job with a level of clinical detachment that was a requirement and her ears pricked up for vital news.

She needed to know the details of what had happened.

She had. Every victim that had entered St Mungos had told her something important. One hysterical woman had sobbed that she had seen the dead body of Minister Diggory. Another had told how she had hidden behind a desk as the Auror were driven back by Death Eaters. The last man had been strangely calm from his bed as he informed the ward that You Know Who had ascended a podium in the Ministry and dished out orders to the assembly.

The Ministry had fallen

The building had been flooded with the enemy and they had been overwhelmed. The Minister of Magic had been executed and the Dark Lord had taken the position of power.

It was hard to not shudder at the thought, as she muttered a healing charm to fix the head wound of the man in front of her.

She could only imagine what would happen to everyone. She had a very vivid memory of the world her old family had spoken and dreamed of and she knew what they would do to create their world.

They were merciless. They would kill and torture until all of the opposition was wiped out and their sick and twisted purist visions were realised.

It was dangerous for her. She might have been a pureblood, but she had turned away from that life and she was now labelled a blood traitor.

However, she was not at the biggest risk.

Ted and Dora were.

* * *

Hogwarts Castle had never felt so isolated and threatened. Surrounded by history's greatest witches and wizards, even Albus Dumbledore was forced to scrunch up his usual twinkling eyes and rest his slightly crooked nose up against his hands that were pressed together.

It had been more than fifty years since he had made a mistake as erroneous as what had occurred tonight.

If anyone else was around he would not be like this. He would have straightened up and appeared like he was ready to react to the tragic circumstances that they had to face.

The truth was even Albus Dumbledore was caught by surprise.

He had thought it would take Tom another decade to amass enough strength to tear down the Ministry in such a direct way. He had assumed a takeover of the Ministry at this stage was ludicrous.

He had been wrong

He had received news via one of his contacts in the Ministry about the attack. He had notified as many of the Order as he could so they could rush to assist.

It had not been enough.

He had resisted going himself for fear that the attack might have spread to Hogwarts.

Again, he had been wrong.

The Ministry was only ever the goal and it had fallen.

Now the poor souls he had been sent to the Ministry were either dead or in the hands of a madman. The whole of the nation was in the hands of a madman.

It could not be allowed to remain that way.

He only had a few choices; he could mount a direct attack or wait until Tom made the first move.

He knew that every moment he waited more people could be tortured or killed, yet he did not have the capabilities to act.

He would have to wait.

No one could support Tom for long. It would shift and he could mount and uprising.

That was if Tom allowed him to stay on as Headmaster.

Flicking his open his bright blue eyes, they shone brighter than ever as he gripped his wand under the table.

Tom would not move him from his job as Headmaster.

He would not dare.

* * *

Pollux Black looked over his glasses at the man before him. His eyes were red rimmed and blurry, there were ink spots over his chin and his face was slightly pale. He was the very definition of exhausted and overworked.

He did not care. No one had the luxury of sleep. Fatigue did not excuse untidy appearances and slack mannerisms. Pollux would never allow that in himself. After all he was a Black. He might have been from the lesser line of the Blacks, but their line was proud and their line had survived.

Since Pollux had become Editor in Chief of the Daily Prophet, he had made it his policy to ensure each edition was perfect and finished by nine o'clock at night so that it could be printed. On that day everything had been fine. It had just ticked over to eight thirty and he had been about to return home when the news about the Ministry had leaked into the office.

Immediately he had set every available reporter to the scene to gather information and to start writing.

He had not left his office. He had waited for the articles to come to him. They had, but they had not been satisfactory. He had sent each back. They had then been reworked and he had ordered them to be changed again.

Admittedly it was not their fault. He had not decided what stance he wanted to take. He had tossed and turned and had barked different orders at his writers. He would not tell them that. They were below him and they should just do whatever he requested.

The silver in his hair shone in the candles behind his desk as he stared at his employee. He slid his gold rimmed glasses down his pointed nose, his gaze clinical and cool. "Good," he said his voice brisk and somehow devoid of any suggestions that he was exhausted. "It is good. You can go."

"Thank you," the exhausted boy muttered as he turned to depart.

Pollux did not show relief or thanks as the man left. He did not even look at him. He only concentrated on his decision and his confidence that he had made the correct decision.

It was the right stance.

It had to be.

Now was not the time to pick a side. The Dark Lord might declare that he planned to create a world where purebloods were superior, but, until he showed those intentions and his ability to do so, Pollux would not provide him with complete support.

Glancing down at the article, he read it for a final time.

_2__nd__ March 1974_

_Devastating Battle in Ministry! Minister Diggory Dead! Dark Lord Appointed Minister!_

_In a shocking and devastating scene last night, violence struck the very heart of the Ministry. At about 8pm men and women armed and violent descended onto the Ministry. Set upon forcing a coup, Aurors, Hit Wizards and Ministry personnel did their best to hold down the Ministry but they lost the fight. Out of the smoke and haze, Minister Diggory was announced as dead. Details are still sketchy about who perpetrated such a horrific crime__._

_It is unclear who started the violence but it is clear that two groups; including the Death Eaters and another rebellious organisation were involved in open hostilities in the Atrium. The Death Eaters and the Dark Lord won the battle and the Dark Lord was appointed Minister of Magic. The legalities of his attempt have yet to be-_

"Mr. Black!" The voice of his secretary called, her voice too loud and shrieking for his tastes, but at present he excused it with the current situation. "Someone from the Ministry is here to see you."

Pollux knew what that meant. Restoring his features to try to remain calm, he smoothed down his robes and placed his piece of parchment flat on his desk.

He would see what the Dark Lord desired from him and what he was willing to offer.

* * *

**A/N:** As you can see this chapter was more of a prologue. If you missed it Millicent Bagnold is the character who, in canon, is the Minister of Magic in 1981 and Pollux Black is the Black sister's grandfather.

As well, I would also like to thank OnyxRose13 for acting as my beta for the fic to hopefully minimise my foolish errors.


	2. His

A/N: Now the story really begins with the fic's main characters. As a warning this is one of the chapters where the M rating is relevant.

* * *

Bella was sure that the Nott Great Hall had never been so crowded and loud at two in the morning. It was filled with a hundred figures, almost all of which wore black robes, and made it seem like there were shadows traversing the area. However, their faces were visible. The Death Eaters had discarded their masks and hoods several hours ago. They now lay scattered in piles over the marble floor.

There had been no time for their host to organise or plan. Dolohov had suggested they needed to celebrate their victory and, in a few moments, the group was soon crowded into Nott Manor. It did not bother anyone. No one cared that there were no seats or tables. They only barked orders at the house elves who scurried around the floor like rats with trays held over their head which were and piled high with whatever the guests required.

Bellatrix was one of the guests who were impatiently waiting. Glancing over her empty wine glass that she was idly fiddling between her fingers, Bella finally spotted the elf she had ordered to fetch her drink. Her patience level was notoriously low with humans and with house elves it was nonexistent. More than a minute wait was too long for her. Striding to meet the pathetic creature, she snatched the glass filled with green liquid from the tray and pushed the pitiful creature to the ground. It fell back like a sack of potatoes landing hard on the marble along with the glasses it carried with an almighty crash. She heard it squeak in pain, but the sound was hidden in the roar of laughter from the Death Eaters and the cursing from those who were waiting on drinks.

She laughed loudest of all as she took a small sip of the liqueur. It burned as it slid down her throat, but she did not mind. She wanted a respite from the more ladylike wine she typically consumed. She knew this would do the trick. The surge of such a powerful and potent taste would always be enjoyable. After all, she loved everything about power.

Her dark eyes gleamed in the light as she glanced over at the figure standing by the fireplace that had turned around at the crowd's laughter.

It was unheard of for her Lord to attend such occasions, yet it seemed even he wanted to check in on his Death Eaters or perhaps he was in the mood to celebrate. She would not complain about such a concept since celebrating or doing anything with her Lord would always be pleasing.

She tipped back her head to gulp down the rest of her absinthe like it was a shot; all the while her gaze did not drift from the Dark Lord. Her body tingled as she strode across the hall. Some of the men were in her way, but she shoved on their shoulders until they snapped at her and allowed her to reach his side.

His lips were curled into an amused smile as she bowed her head to him, "My Lord," she murmured her voice reverent. "I hope you do not mind my disturbance."

"No," he said softly his voice thoughtful as she straightened her neck to stare into his bloodshot eyes, "I do not."

He did not elaborate, but he did not need to. He merely stared down at her over his glass of scotch like she was a particularly interesting artefact.

"It was a magnificent victory, Master," she said, eager to keep up the conversation. She had been staring at her Lord all night, though at every moment he had seemed occupied by others or a particularly important thought as he stared into the fire. Now she wanted to capitalise on being in his presence and continue talking so he did not grow bored with her. "It is a credit to your skill and abilities. Everything can only be improved now that the Ministry is under your leadership."

"Indeed." It was his only reply. She balked at the notion that he seemed disinterested. She rapidly tried to continue speaking to entertain him.

"This is what we have all wanted. I feel so very privileged that I have had the opportunity to serve you now and into the fut-"

"Enough, Bella," The Dark Lord snapped even though the volume of his voice had not altered. "You do not need to humour me."

No one else could make Bella embarrassed. No one else could make her blush, but he could with ease. He only needed to suggest she had done something wrong and her face would flare red.

"I- I'm sorry, Master. It was not my intention and I-"

He took a step towards her and she flinched. It was not because she feared him striking, she would not complain if he did, but her body only tensed at the cherished close proximity. It did not matter that she was surrounded by a hundred men and that she had been the subject of rumours and gossip for years. Her stomach only leaped at the thought of his touch.

He lowered his voice and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as he leaned over so his lips were near her ear. "Be outside the front doors in five minutes."

As he withdrew her body shook like a leaf while he stared straight into his eyes and the power that simmered below the surface. The closeness only lasted a moment, but the affects lingered while she stared slightly glassy eyed at the back of his slightly balding black hair as he strode from the hall with his black robes trailing behind her like wisps of darkness. She did not stop gazing in that direction until he was gone and even then she closed her eyes to keep an imprint of him in her mind as she leaned against the panelled wall.

Smiling at the anticipation of how she would soon feel his hands on her body, it only flickered once when one of the other elves appeared cautiously at her elbow. She swiped it away. This one had the intelligence to keep its distance.

She did not want anything else to drink. If her evening plan would have included anything else she might have had another, but, due to soon slide into her Lord's bed, she was annoyed she had previously allowed any alcohol to taint her mind and memory of another occasion in her Lord's arms.

Even the merest thoughts of her Lord increased her body temperature dramatically as she looked up at the grandfather clock on the opposite wall. Five minutes. She could wait five minutes.

For four years, since she was only nineteen, she had been a presence in her Lord's bed. She remembered what she was like then; perhaps a little naive, but her loyalty had been enduring and unquestionable and the way she had desired Him then had not changed over the years.

It had only intensified.

The golden hand of the clock ticked noisily around the face as she urged time to speed up. She only lifted her gaze for a moment when Rookwood tried to approach her. Presumably, after a few glasses of wine he thought he had a chance. However, one glare at his pockmarked face from her dark eyes had him scampering away.

At least Rodolphus had left. He had attempted to drag her along with him, but his attempt had failed after she had snapped at him. She was glad of his absence. It would have been harder to sneak away from him.

As each moment drifted by at a snail's pace she became more and more impatient. It was only with a great amount of difficulty that she contained herself for those cursed five minutes before she moved. She strode across the hall probably too quick to be appropriate as she walked through two sets of elaborate doors before she stared down at her Lord from the front porch. He was standing on the ruler-flat grass by the stairs, his robes fluttered in the breeze as he gazed straight ahead lost in some deep thoughts that no mere mortal could grasp. She would have been happy to stare at his milky white skin forever, but she was eager for other things so she descended the stairs. The click of her heeled boots on stone must have been enough to cause his head to turn.

"Ma-" she started to say as her leather boots crushed the strands of foliage, but the words had not even left her mouth before he reached forward and grasped her arm. His hold was hard and tight, enough to cut off the circulation, though she did not care. She only concentrated on the heat that she could feel through her robes as the feeling of apparition settled over her.

The tightness of being squeezed through a small tube was only a slight discomfort after having adapted to it for so long and, once colour appeared for her again the scene was different; a modest sized room with forest green wallpaper and with only a minimal amount of furniture in simple dark wood. Her eyes instinctively caught for a moment on the hard familiar bed before she gazed back at her Lord.

"My Lord," she murmured unable to keep her eyes downcast as she stared up into his face through her thick lashes. She tried to keep her voice composed and sweep also evidence of emotion from her features, but she failed. Her voice was already breathy and her focus on him was filled with worship and something more. "Please tell me how I can serve you."

He considered her. Bloodied eyes trailed along her dark lips, down the plunging neckline revealing her cleavage and traversed the tight robes that curled around her shapely body.

His attentive gaze put her on edge, though she was not weary. She was only impatient.

She hated admitting it as it seemed insulting, even in her own mind, to rush him. But her heart beat painfully like the grip on her arm and the only thing she could do was to wrap her spare hand in a fist so she would not touch him.

She must not rush him. The Dark Lord did things in his own time.

She had learned that lesson the hard way. In their first sessions she had been over eager to serve her Lord. She had not been able to contain herself and her hands had shot out to touch his body.

He had taught her how wrong she was. She had screamed for him. It had not been from ecstasy, yet from pain.

She suspected her Lord had still enjoyed the noise.

So, over the years, she had learned. She had been taught what he wanted was the only thing that mattered. Even if she wanted to run her hands over him and, even if she knew she could please him, she would have to wait until the orders left his mouth. She could never presume what went on in her Master's mind and she could never take her time in her Lord's bed for granted.

Finally her torture was over.

"Kneel," he ordered, his voice cool like it was a request he would make to any his followers, but she recognised it was not. She knew from the attentive focus of his gaze and how she was alone with him in his bedroom.

It was difficult to not smile at the words.

Her robes folded around her as she sunk down onto the cold, hard, wooden floor. She considered taking off her robe, but since her Lord had not asked, she would not presume. Instead she waited, allowing her hands to rest in her lap.

Much too slow to soothe the tingling feeling inside her, the Dark Lord moved his pale hands down his body to the buttons of his clothing. She longed to do the work for him, but there was no point rushing him as his robe opened and he freed himself.

She could not take her eyes off him nor could she keep control of her turbulent emotions and desires. She rationalised that he had made clear what he desired as she reached for him. Her hands slid over him brushing over his balls and to grip his thin hips as she opened her mouth and slid over him. She could never get enough of the salty intoxicating taste from his skin.

Her Lord did not utter a word. Other than the slight increase in his breathing, he was silent. If he was anyone else she might have suspected he was not enjoying it.

She knew he was. Still with her mouth filled with him, she gazed up him transfixed and waiting for any sign that she was doing the right thing. His face was tense and his teeth seemed clenched as his hands settled to grip her head and force him further down her throat.

It almost choked her and it was not exactly pleasant, but it was for her Lord.

She never could deny him.

It did not matter that he might hurt her or that her body was pumping with desire and her underwear growing wet with needs that might not be given any attention. However, her desires were irrelevant. They would only be satisfied if he wanted to provide them any attention. She always tried to push away her uncertainty and to be grateful for her position.

She would not complain.

* * *

Despite the fact that Bella was overcome with the joy of success and the pleasure of her Lord, by dawn she was yawning.

Stretching her arms above her head and opening her mouth wide, she pushed open the front doors of her home, Asphodel House. The wooden floor covered in an ornate scarlet rug and antique moving portraits did not catch any attention. Eyes only half open hardly anything did until she almost jumped a foot as a familiar blonde haired girl descended the stairs in front of her and exclaimed loudly. "Bella!" Narcissa's eyes were wide and her tone was filled with surprise as she stopped dead in her tracks. "What are you doing? Have you been out _all _night?"

Sweet, innocent, Cissy. She almost made her laugh. If Bella was not in such good spirits from when her Lord had finally pulled her to her feet and thrown into her on his bed, she might not have bothered answering but, as it was, she was feeling more tolerant of her little sister.

"And what a night it has been." She grinned brightly as she continued walking and strode past her sister towards the stairs now that she was more at ease. "You should look at the Prophet."

"The Prophet..." Cissy murmured as she wrapped her tongue around the strange syllables. "Why would I look in the paper?"

Bella's lips moved further upwards as her eyes gleamed. "The Ministry. It is all about the Ministry. Everything has changed Cissy. Everything has changed for the better." Leaning against the polished railing she allowed Cissy's confusion to settle as she paused uncomfortably by the bottom of the stairs. "I will head there later. Well, after I have had some sleep. Until then." She waved rather cheerfully as she set up the stairs. "Good night, my dear sister."

"Tell me!"Narcissa urged from where she had broken out of her stance and stared up from her position at the bottom of the stairs. "What has happened?"

"Read the Prophet," Bella repeated, her voice echoing down the stairs as she continued to walk. "Then you will know."

* * *

It was five in the morning and even the most dedicated of workers would have been absent from the Ministry. However, this was not the case today. The individuals whose workplace included the building had seen fit to investigate the rumours of his victory. He would give them something to see, but their examination of the scene would only tell them so much. No one would ever discover exactly what his intentions were or what he was planning.

In each corner of the polished wooden hall, men and women pressed themselves up against each other and the black tiled walls as if they tried to blend into their surroundings or they feared an individual would be easy prey. They were all foolish. They did not understand that every one of them could be an unmoving corpse on the ground in a second if he even thought it. However, his bloodied eyes only swept by each group with considerable disinterest. They were unimportant.

The more familiar black robes of his Death Eaters that he had ordered to stand in strategic positions throughout the Atrium attracted slightly more attention, but only a select few received a curt nod as he glided over the hall. His lips remained curled into a static half smirk as the eyes of the room were upon him. Most were seeing him for the first time and he knew what would dominate their thoughts; power.

They feared him. They knew of his ability and they would not think to cross him. He was not foolish enough to believe there was no opposition, but for now, they were keeping their distance. It would not be the case forever but he had plans in place to ensure that his support solidified into an iron wall that would never fall.

Everything was planned.

Stepping into the cramped lift he ignored the cool female voice that still spoke as the floor was pulled underneath him by ancient magic. The novel thought amused him for a moment. It almost gave the impression that he needed to be moved and assisted like the rest of the powerless fools in the Ministry.

In the First Floor corridor the crowds were nonexistent. The only thing visible was thick purple carpet and a long panelled hallway lined with doors and gold rimmed portraits of previous ministers. He would take considerable pleasure in placing his picture in the pride of place. After all, he would do more than any leader had even considered doing. He would make Britain great.

As he walked almost silently down the hall he did not detect any noise. It seemed the area was deserted. He envisaged that those who ordinarily resided on these levels were trying to avoid their association with the previous government. It was not necessary. He did not intend to punish all of those who had been in the old Ministry. Anyone who pledged their loyalty and could be trusted to keep their word would remain. It was the wisest choice. It would allow a positive view of his regime to develop and be another weapon to starve off the cries for rebellion which would inevitably develop.

He continued his path, the same he had travelled last night when he had ended the life of Minister Diggory. It was pitiful. The man had barely raised his head. The last pathetic moments of his life almost made Voldemort consider revealing it to the public, though it was not worth the alteration to his plan.

His outline was perfect. It would not change.

Turning the final corridor, he twisted the golden handle and stepped into the Minister's Office. The walls were inlaid with rosewood panels and designs that moved and shifted by carefully placed charms. The desk was covered in as similar wood, but it was inlaid with silver and large and majestic. It should have been neat and orderly, but the papers were all disturbed and coating the floor and table an inch thick.

It was too light and too cluttered than what he would have preferred, though the history and extravagance pleased him enough for him to not alter it. With a wide casual sweep of his pale wand, the parchment neatly flew into a high pile as he crossed the room to slide into the soft leather chair. It curled around his thin frame as he settled into the unusual comfort.

He allowed himself the rare occasion to rest. He had not slept for nearly two days straight with the planning and eventual conquest of the Ministry. There had been the final preparations, the conquest and the celebrations, which had the true purpose of ensuring his followers behaved.

Even his body was impacted by the strain of being awake for so long, but he would push on.

Resting back in the chair, he did not close his eyes. He mentally flicked through elements he had to solve. He would have to ensure their position at the Ministry was secure. He would need to keep a reasonable level of support in the public and there were various tools that he would utilise. Blame for Diggory's death would need to be placed on someone else and he would need to be seen as a hero.

He knew just what to do.

Smirking at his undeniably perfect scheme, he swept his gaze over the office.

It was now all his.

The country was now his.


	3. Different Troubles

Chapter done. I would also like to apologise to my readers that this fic is not betad. Hopefully I will update with a betad chapter soon.

* * *

By the time Andromeda apparated home the sun was shining high in the sky. The roses and tulips Ted had planted stretched high in their roots to savour the light.

She did not.

Her face was flushed, her skin was coated in sweat, her hands and robes were speckled with blood and her hair was half falling out of her bun. She normally would have showered and ensured she was presentable before she returned home, but not today. Today she needed to see Ted.

Kicking pebbles out of her way as she rushed up the garden path, she was still careful to not leave a mark on the impeccably white front door as she shoved her key into the lock. It clicked open and she stepped inside the homely and well lit hallway. She was vigilant enough to wrench her key from the door before she slammed it shut. She knew it was loud enough to wake Dora, but she could not help herself. She was worried and frantic and her wand was quickly out as she cast every protective charm she knew at the entranceway.

"Dromeda?" She heard Ted's mellow voice call from the kitchen. Immediately she turned to face the blonde haired and slightly round figured man. "God, are you alright?"

She was not alright. She was stressed, hurt, sad and, above all, scared. However, despite being married for two years, she still found it difficult to open up to even Ted. She blamed it on her upbringing.

"I'm alright," she said as she lowered her wand arm and placed the weapon back into the folds of her robes. "It has just been a long day."

He nodded and, before she could even approach him, he stepped towards her and wrapped his large comforting arms around her. She must have looked a mess, yet he still embraced her. It made her heart swell as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I understand. It must have been so hard for you. I saw the paper this morning. You have heard haven't you?"

The smallest mention of the news made her body tense and her throat go dry. She wanted to panic and scream, but Ted seemed calm.

"I have," she said her voice quiet as she lifted her head off his shoulder. She had her moment of weakness now she needed to do what was required. Staring into his round face and bright cheeks, it did not help matters; it reminded her of what we she had to worry about. "We have to go Ted. We can't stay here."

"It will be alright," he said soothingly as he stroked the back of her head. "I promise you that. We can't just leave. We have Dora. How can we run with a baby? We have to stay. It will be alright."

She was worried for Dora and Ted. She might survive an encounter with her family, but Ted and Dora would not. "We have to."

"No we don't. Look."He leaned forward and gently the kissed the top of her head and stared straight into her eyes. "I would never let anything happen to you or Dora, ever. I think we have to wait. I have been thinking about it all morning, but fleeing will attract attention and there is still Dumbledore. He will fix this mess. I know he will. Besides, if they want to stay, they will have to play by the rules. They won't go around killing and torturing without reason."

She disagreed. Ted was not like her. Ted was positive and hopeful. Ted could put his hope in someone and know they would be able to help them. He was the ones who entered Hogwarts and saw how powerful their headmaster was and thought he could never fail.

She admired those traits about him, but she was not so lucky. She had been raised around darkness and criticism. She had heard every negative tale about Dumbledore, and, while she might not have taken them to heart, they had led to a critical evaluation of the man. As well, she knew what the others were capable of; she knew they would kill without hesitation.

Still she did not want to argue with Ted. She wanted to hope he was right. "Can we at least increase the protection around the house? I would feel more comfortable if there were some protective charms in place."

"Of course," he said softly as he leaned over and kissed her softly again. "But it will be fine. Dumbledore won't allow him to stay. I promise it will be alright."

She did not reply. She only nodded and leaned into Ted.

She hoped he was right.

* * *

Bellatrix had been in the Ministry every day since they had been victorious. On some occasions she had been summoned and, on others, she had taken the initiative herself, eager to assist and be in her Lord's presence. She had noticed that, while some of the old Ministry employees were present, it felt like most were absent and waiting for something.

For this moment.

She was sure the Atrium had never been so crowded. Every inch of dark wooden floor was taken up by spectators and a number of the fireplaces had been blocked for a short period of time so that people would stop flooing in and trammelling the crowd.

She did not have that problem. She like the other Death Eaters were standing just in front of the raised platform that had been erected in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Each wore normal suit robes; their black uniforms and hoods missing revealing their identities to their own as well as the public. They had been ordered to stand in front of the podium either to emphasise their presence or for security.

She did not care. She would defend her Lord no matter what.

He was the only one on the platform. It was large and seemed like it was made of polished marble so that it fitted in seamlessly with the fountain stand behind him and caused the trail of the Dark Lord's robe to disappear into the blackness. The lights from the fountain played over his long thin figure making him a silhouette and highlighting his importance.

It was an impressive site. Her breath was shallow from the moment he ascended the steps and nothing, not even the insistent pull from Rodolphus, had been able to divert her attention from him.

She did not think it possible, but his awe and power was even more evident today.

"Good evening wizards and witches," the Dark Lord began his voice loud and commanding as it echoed over the heads of the silent Atrium. Bella assumed, if she looked back, she would find every set of eyes glued to him, but she could never turn from him. "We are gathered here for the dawning of a new age. A new age in the history of our Ministry, our nation and our people. It is a new age where the required acts will transpire to ensure Britain can rise to its former glory and those who are deserving will receive the gifts and gratitude that they deserve.'

'I understand that some may fear me and some may be cautious, but it is a pointless emotion. I share your feelings that Minister Diggory's death was a tragedy and one that calls on justice to be to be delivered. As you may be aware, a vigilante group by the name of the Order of the Phoenix invaded the Ministry. They murdered the Minister and were narrowly stopped from bringing the Ministry to its knees. It was after my involvement in ensuring they could not succeed that I was granted the position as Minister."

Her Lord paused at his words and the room was silent and tense. Bella glowed at the undeniable attention everyone was bestowing on her Lord. He did not twitch himself, but stood tall and firm his bloodied eyes flicking over the heads of the crowd.

"As Minister I understand that there is a time to improve and to update. It is correct that the ranks of the Ministry are filled with those who are most qualified for the positions. In this case I will be making some staffing changes. Firstly, Nicholas Rosier will be appointed as one of the new Ministerial Advisors."

Bella smiled to herself at the appointment of her uncle as she listened to her Lord list the filth that was being extracted from the Ministry and the loyal members of the fold were being rewarded. She was not sure of her position. She knew the Dark Lord valued her highly, but she had never imagined working. However, if her Lord thought a position suited her, than it must.

"And Bellatrix Black," her Lord said with his impressively controlled voice. Bella tensed at the mention of the name as her neck strained to stare into her Lord's face. "Will be appointed as the new Head of the Aurors."

She was not sure if it was the glance he cast her way or the acknowledgement from her Lord of her worth that made her heart swell. Grinning despite herself, she glowed with pride and pleasure. The entire time she did not turn her gaze from her Master.

* * *

It was not until the early hours of the morning that Bella finally slept. She had not been too busy. She only had a few tasks to complete at the Ministry, but her mind could not stop. Excitement and joy coursed through her bones and her brain was active and frantic.

It was not the best morning for her sleep to be disrupted.

Only half conscious, she heard a loud knock on her door before it swung open and slammed against the wall.

She did not open her eyes. She moaned softly and clutched her blankets tightly. No one was worth waking up for.

"Bellatrix wake up!" She heard a voice say from in front of the door. In her sleepy mind it sounded like her mother, though she was normally composed unlike the voice that was screaming at her. "Bellatrix!"

A feminine hand with manicured nails touched the quilt that was covering her back and she finally resigned herself to the inevitable. "Fine," she groaned as her dark eyes fluttered open and she stared up into her mother's face. Despite the early hour, her makeup was already applied and her hair was already styled. "What do you want?"

Druella looked at the matted mess that was Bella's hair and the smudged makeup around her eyes that she had not removed last night.

"You accepted a position at the Ministry?" Druella murmured her lips thinning in an obvious sign of disapproval. "You will be working?"

Groaning softly, Bella pushed herself up into a seated position while she clutched her blankets close to her. "I will. It was requested by the Dark Lord."

Her mother's eyes only narrowed. "Why would the Dark Lord request such a thing from you?"

She sneered. If she was not half asleep she might have controlled herself, but it was only her mother so she did not bother. "Don't be a fool, mother. You know exactly why the Dark Lord and I would be acquainted." Lifting up her left arm, she tilted it so her mother could see the Dark Mark shining on her pale flesh. "I'm a Death Eater. I serve the Dark Lord. He requested I take this new position and I will not deny his request."

Druella's eyes did not lift from the mark. She stared at as if she was simultaneously petrified and disgusted. When she spoke, her voice quivered and was oddly hushed. "You are the daughter of the House of Black. Obviously you have been... misguided in the past, but you do not have to continue to do so. It is inappropriate for a woman to work and-"

"No!" she snapped as she threw the doonas off herself despite the fact her mother would not approve of the sheer nightgown that she wore. "I am not like you mother! I will serve and I will work. I do not care what you think."

Pushing off the side of the bed that her mother was not on, she wrenched a robe out of the wardrobe to find something to wear.

"Bella please think about-"

"No!" she repeated as she turned and glared one last time. "No!"

Before her mother could say anything else she strode to the ensuite and wrenched the door open and threw it closed behind her.

* * *

Narcissa's piercing blue eyes were unmoving. They stared straight into the flames bordered by a marble hearth with intricate and elaborate engravings. A lock of blonde hair slipped out of her meticulous bun. Before she could even lift a hand to her face, someone else did. She smiled despite herself as she felt Lucius' finger brush against her cheek.

"Sickle for your thoughts," he murmured into her ear as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You seem troubled."

Closing her eyes, she lifted her glass of wine to her lips and turned to face Lucius. She was not normally open with her thoughts and emotions, but Lucius was often an exception. Not tonight. Not when he was half the reason she was upset.

"I'm merely lost in thought," she said softly as she tried to smile up at Lucius' pointed aristocratic features. "It is nothing."

"Is it?" he questioned with a raise eyebrow. His eyes did not leave her own. "There is something wrong. Just tell me, Cissy. Please."

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she struggled with her emotions. "It is just everything at the Ministry. I-" She suddenly felt silly as her face coloured. "You all knew. Everyone knew and I did not. Bella and you could have died and I never would have known it was the last time I would have seen you."

"Cissy..." She closed her eyes and leaned into his shoulder feeling comfort in the way his arms wrapped around her. "I did not mean for you to worry. You don't need to worry now. We have won. There is no need for such battles any longer."

She did not know if she believed him. She wanted to.

"It is just hard," she said softly. "It just struck me what it would feel like to lose you before we could even build a life together or..."

She trailed off and flushed a little.

Lucius' hand wrapped gently around her cheek and she turned to look up at him. "But we will," he urged his voice sure. "I love you Cissy. When everything calms down everything can be sorted out."

She could not help but smile even more brightly. "I love you too."

Moving gently away from his shoulder she leaned over and brushed her lips softly against his.


	4. Unexpected Tasks

**A/N: **I would like to thank Fabricated_Fantasies who betad this chapter and will be helping with the next few chapters. This time Voldemort will be revealing a little more of his plan, we have some more Black sister bonding and a slight amount of Bellamort.

* * *

It had been nearly twenty years since Voldemort had returned to this location. He knew his appearance would attract an excessive amount of attention so he ensured it was timed to perfection.

His polished boots echoed against the stone and his black robes trailed along behind him. His bloodied eyes swept over each portrait and the few students that he passed. A limited number walked past without a second glance, but those who possessed a slight amount of intelligence stopped in their path; some turned and ran while others froze in shock.

He almost chuckled at the thought as the woman in front of him stopped at a large stone gargoyle. His lips curled into a slight smile as he examined the woman as she said the password. Her dark hair was wrapped in a stiff bun and her face was taut from his presence or her natural personality. He had never met her before, but he knew who she was; half blood teacher who was loyal and close to Dumbledore. She was another mindless follower, though someone with potential and someone who needed to be watched.

At her instructions the staircases started moving and he comfortably followed her to the thick wooden door. It was already open and he followed her inside.

The large circular room was lined in a hundred or so portraits of those who had resided in the office in a past life. The bookcases leaned against each other where they were stacked to capacity and stood behind several spindly tables with silver and smoking instruments which caught his eye before he focused on the reason for his visit

Standing tall in front of his desk, his twinkling blue eyes were dark as Voldemort stared back at irises hidden by square spectacles. A part deep inside of him tensed, but Voldemort pushed it away and stood straight backed at his impressive height and remained calm.

He had the power in this situation.

"It has been a while, Dumbledore," he said softly as he flicked his eyes cautiously behind him to where McGonagall was still standing by the door. "I hope you will excuse me for not mourning those lost years."

The other man was not as cheerful. Instead he remained rooted to the spot and stared ahead. Voldemort knew that if he was not a master Occluemens, those piercing blue eyes would be searching his mind for information.

"Why are you here, Tom?"

His tense tone even made Voldemort's mood avoid the inevitable frustration that hearing that hated name always produced. "There are a few things we need to discuss."

"I'm sure we do." Dumbledore looked behind his shoulder to where the woman still remained lingering in the corner. "Minerva could you please leave us? I will be fine I assure you."

It was difficult for Voldemort to not smile with pleasure at the statement. Instead he only stared straight ahead as, in the corner of his eye, he observed McGonagall's departure.

Feeling more comfortable, Voldemort stepped further into the room. Dumbledore gave him a cautious glance as he slowly walked back around his desk, but he did not sit. He merely rested his long fingers against the back of the chair. Voldemort mimicked his pose with the matching furniture opposite Dumbledore.

"I do not expect you are foolish enough to force me from this position," Dumbledore said his voice tense.

"I'm sure there are many things you do not expect from me," Voldemort said comfortably and confidently. "Do not assume you are safe."

"I am. I know what you are doing, Tom. You are trying to secure your position. You will not do that by forcing me out and emphasising your cruelty."

Voldemort smirked. "Perhaps but you may be more trouble than you are worth. I am here to ensure you know what behaviour is required for you to remain here."

"What would that be?"

"Compliance."

"I have no reason to harm you, Tom, but I will if I have to. This is my place. If my students are not hurt or interfered with, then I will not interfere."

The notion of Hogwarts continuing to being filled by mudblood disgusted him, but he contained himself. "That is acceptable. You will remain at Hogwarts. I will not interfere and you will not interfere with the Ministry."

Dumbledore nodded curtly. "I can agree with those terms."

Voldemort smirked slightly. He only gave one curt nod before he turned and left.

The compromise was what he expected. In the future Voldemort planned to conquer Hogwarts like every other inch of British soil, but it would be foolish to challenge Dumbledore from the outset. As precious as Hogwarts was, it could be sacrificed for a few years until the Ministry was secure. Once Dumbledore could no longer interfere then he would crush his old enemy.

* * *

Bellatrix had been pleased about her new position for several reasons. The trust the Dark Lord placed in her thrilled her and she assumed as Head of the Aurors, unlike other responsibilities, she would spend more time actively serving her Lord rather than buried under paperwork.

She had been wrong.

Growling under her breath and trying to remind herself that this was all for the Dark Lord, she tossed the report she had finished reading onto the foot high stack of parchment.

Picking up her quill she was close to throwing it as someone knocked on the door and stepped inside. Blonde, preppy and too chirpy to maintain Bella's temper she glared fire at the woman. "What do you want?"

Bella was pleased to watch the girl pale, though she at least did her job and brandished a purple inter departmental memo. "This just arrived for you, Miss Black."

"Give it to me," Bella ordered as she raised an impatient hand.

She was wise enough to comply. As she stepped forward, Bella wrenched it from her hand without a word of thanks. However, her heart leaped and her mood spiked as her gaze brushed over the familiar long and elaborate handwriting. It was strange to be summoned by her Lord by parchment, but she was still on her feet in a moment. Before her secretary had even left the room, she literally pushed past her and strode down the corridors.

She did not wait as she walked the path down the hallway, through the lift and down the corridor that contained her Lord's office. The old and wheezy secretary greeted her by gazing up and down her frame.

"The Dark Lord is waiting for you," she said before Bella could even draw a breath.

It increased her mood and she quickly turned the door handle and stepped inside.

It did not matter that he was now Minister and such actions were not practiced by the rest of the population and those who worked with him. Her knees were still filled with magnets as she fell to the floor in front of his desk as soon as his secretary had closed the door behind her.

"You summoned me, my Lord," she murmured her voice thick with reverence and loyalty as her dark eyes focused on the Dark Lord. He sat behind his impressive engraved desk, his long fingers curled around each other as his bloodied eyes stared down at her and drew her breath away.

"I did," he replied his voice cool and calm as he rose to his impressive height. She followed the path of his long fingers over the side of the table as he stopped in front of her. "You may stand."

Lowering her head she did as required. Her limbs felt weak and sloppy as they always did in his presence as she straightened her body.

"Have the Aurors been co-operating?"

She mentally scolded herself for being disappointed at the question being aimed at work rather than something more personal as she nodded. "The ones that have remained, yes." She had already told him about the Aurors who had fled the Ministry after their victory. "They have followed all of their orders. I have been watching those who deserve caution."

"Good. I want the force to be secure. Once it is we can expand relying on the Aurors rather than the Death Eaters to maintain the illusion of authority."

"It will be done, Master." She bowed her head respectfully her eyes never leaving his face. "I will ensure that complete loyalty is exercised by everyone who serves you including those within the Ministry."

"The Ministry is only half the story," he continued as if she had not spoken. "There are those outside who must be monitored. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is home to several files and information which will be useful. Dolohov as head of the department is already examining them, but he will direct the files that require further investigation to you. Use the Aurors who can be trusted to track them. If they find anything report to Dolohov. You can both work on ensuring something can be dragged up to sentence them to Azkaban."

"Yes, my Lord."

She knew what her Lord was doing. She knew he was working on securing his base and ensuring that the Ministry would not slip from their grasp. She knew he was trying to appear like another leader who followed the law. She was aware of this, but, inside she did not agree. She thought he should do what he liked because, of cours,e his will was superior. However, she would never question his judgement.

He nodded and slid back around his desk. Before she could stop herself, her face fell as it always did when she felt like she was drawing further away from him.

He must have noticed as he turned suddenly around and faced her. She immediately tensed and her cheeks reddened as if she was a child. "You that way now, Bella," he chuckled slightly and she did not miss how cold his voice was. "Do behave, Bella. You are in the Ministry to be more than my whore."

"Sorry, my Lord," she murmured unsure if she liked his words or not.

His eyes trained on her as he walked back around his desk before he sat down with all his impeccable grace. "Then go. That is all."

Despite every inch of her body begging her to disobey she could not. "Yes my Lord." Bowing low she turned and left the room.

* * *

Her mother had not even made Bella consider leaving her position. If her father might have mentioned something, she could have briefly consideration on the issue, but, as it was, her family's position meant nothing.

Having tossed her cloak over one of her leather armchairs residing by the fire, Bella rested on her flat stomach as she traced small lines with her fingers on the parchment in front of her. Dolohov had handed her the reports on the questionable members of the public only a few hours ago. She could have gone through them at the Ministry, but, since her Lord had already left, she gave up on that idea and she decided to return home. At least if she had to go through dull papers she would do so in comfort.

Yawning, she did not even bother lifting her hand to her mouth, as she unrolled the parchment. It seemed pointless. He was a half blood with muggleborn sympathies. He should be investigated for that point alone.

Sure of that fact she was rather pleased when she heard a light tap on her door. "Come in," she called lifting her eyes from the parchment to her blonde haired sister. She was smiling and holding two coat hangers with two silk dresses in her small manicured hands. "Hello, Cissy. Come for fashion advice?"

"Just advice," she said with a smile which was an obvious response to the fact that Bella did not sound annoyed. "Lucius and I are having dinner tomorrow night and I just cannot decide between the red and the blue dress."

"Of course."Pushing herself upright onto her elbows she looked between both dresses. The first was crimson with a tight bodice that flowed to the ground. It was what she would have worn. The other was light blue and the same shade of her sister's eyes with material that was light and flowing with intricate details sewn into the side. "The blue," she replied immediately. "Lucius wants his pretty and perfect future wife."

Cissy blushed but it was hardly one of displeasure as she gently laid each dress onto her chair as she glanced at the paper's surrounding Bella. Obviously she had found a distraction. "What are you doing?"

"Reading reports," she answered flashing one in the direction of her sister before she rolled it back up with the flick of her wand. "Dolohov sent them over to me today. These were the ones that required particular investigation."

She was surprised to find Cissy looked interested as she drew close to the bed. She sat down daintily and drew her eyes of the littered rolls of parchment. "Is there anyone interesting there?"

"Hardly. Just the expected group of mudbloods and blood traitors."

"Blood traitors?" Cissy's voice actually sounded interested or even concerned as she glanced at the rolled up parchments.

"Yes..." she murmured hesitatingly. "Why would that matter?"

Narcissa looked down at her lap as she mumbled an answer. "Is _she _there?"

Bella's whole body tensed. Despite the lack of a name she knew who her sister referred to her.

"No," she snapped her vice suddenly sounding like a whip at the merest mention of her. "She is not there."

"But you can get information on her?" It was strange. Narcissa sounded almost interested and filled with a desire to know the information.

Her dark eyes rapped up and down her sister's hesitant but almost happy frame. "Yes."

"Would you?"

Did she scare? Did she care about the blood traitor? Had she really forgot about who had shamed the family?

No.

Did that mean she would pretend like she had forgotten and never think about or see her again?

She did not know.

Did she at least want vengeance?

She knew that answer.


	5. Why You Don't Anger Bellatrix Black

**A/N: **I hope everyone will excuse the continued lack of bellamort for the purpose of the plot. This is where it starts to get interesting and the changes start to become clearer.

* * *

It had been several months since the Dark Lord had taken control of the Ministry. In that time Bella had continued to serve her Lord as Head of the Aurors and attempted to reign in the group who had previously been their enemies. She could not trust any of them, so she was always eager to recruit and to fill their numbers with those who deserved to fight for their Lord through the Ministry.

There had been no substantial disturbances to their rule. There had been whispers and only minor altercations and protests, but nothing substantial. A part of her believed it was proof that her Lord was popular and her Lord's power was safe, though that was not all of her brain. The rest of her knew that Mudbloods and blood traitors were not intelligent enough to bend and that they must be waiting for something.

However, she was not thinking about the Ministry that day. Despite wearing the scarlet robes that marked her as an Auror and clutching a file from the Ministry in her left hand, this was not about her job. Her current goal was motivated by justice and raw fury. Righteousness coursed through her at the inevitable goal of today's work and what it would mean. How right it was. She did not allow her eyes to move to Rodolphus and Rabastan in their civilian robes on her right to gain confirmation. She was sure of her plans. Tightening her grip on the parchment in her hand, her eyes ghosted over the house number, which was the same as her research suggested.

Since Narcissa had mentioned that the Ministry would have files on the filthy blood traitor who had been her sister, she had been drawn to search. It had originated as only a brief longing glance at the Ministry archives, but every day the call had strengthened. She could smell the blood the Mudblood would shed, and she could hear his screams.

Soon she had succumbed to the urge. She had searched until she had found what she had wanted; the blood traitor and Mudblood's address. It was where she was now.

Trammelling over the tulips and roses without a care in the world, she took a brief moment to tear down the pathetic wards and protective charms, before she raised her wand to the door. She heard Rodolphus mutter something to his brother behind her, but she did not concentrate on them, focused on her rage and her lust for justice.

A jet of teal erupted from her wand and slammed into the perfect white door. The wood that previously did not even have a scratch was thrown from its hinges and hurled down the bright hallway. Before she could help herself, Bella shrieked with delight as she took off down the hallway. If she was not so full of glee and determination she might have wondered how her sister could live in such a modest and pathetic house, but she was so focused on her goal so she did not care. She only headed for her destination.

It was easy enough to find - she only had to follow the screams of the filthy baby. The door to the living room was already open and her targets were already waiting for her. Bella fought off the desire to feel sorrow at the sight of the woman she had not seen for two years and who looked so similar to her. Instead she grinned broadly and chuckled loudly at the blood traitor and the fat Mudblood with wands in their hands.

"Get out," the Mudblood tried to order, its plump face lined in defiance like so many of her victims as he stepped out in front of Andromeda. "Get out or I'll-"

Her laughter increased in pitch. It was enough to halt the Mudblood's speech as she grinned broadly and she tried to concentrate on the pain she would inflict rather than the feeling of doubt at the sight of the traitor. "You actually think you can match us. So foolish."

The Mudblood flinched as did Andromeda on the rare occasion her eyes brushed over her face. The Mudblood even opened his mouth to respond, but it was sickening to listen to him. It was more amusing to cut him off; she had waited long enough for her vengeance.

A jet of scarlet light left her wand. She would have liked for her curse to be immediately effective but she knew it would not be. Like a rabid dog, the Mudblood would put up some fight before it collapsed.

Bellatrix vaguely heard Andromeda shriek, but she ignored it as she went for the Mudblood. He sent back a spell, but Bella easily deflected it and continued her assault. Behind her Rodolphus and Rabastan charged for her sister. She was not at all disturbed since she knew they were aware what she wanted to do with Andromeda. In the background she could hear the baby crying, but she ignored it all.

She was in her element.

She had been trained by the Dark Lord himself, and the spins away from curses and quick responses came naturally to her. She was swift and efficient, while the Mudblood was not. If she was rational, she might have thought that he had not had her practice or training. However, she did not think like that. Her eyes were alight, like a lion having found its prey.

With every curse the Mudblood at least tried, but it was a laughable attempt and she openly mocked him as she fired off another Cruciatus Curse.

Finally it connected. The Mudblood fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his limbs flailing around him and his screams overshadowing the whines of the baby. She could vaguely hear her blood traitor sister's pleas to stop, but she was blind to anything other than the agony and the sweet vengeance.

She did not stop. She did not allow Rodolphus or Rabastan to interrupt as she unleashed curse after curse on the Mudblood filth. She relished in every moment. It was only when her victim was a bloodied mess on the ground and he was no longer moving that she smirked in contentment.

Her breathing was heavy and heated, but her wand was steady. In fact she was still smiling as she raised it high in the air before she brought it down in one elegant and plasticised sweep. The jet of green light pierced the room and struck the Mudblood in the chest.

The baby had stopped crying, but Andromeda was whimpering softly. It was easier staring at the Mudblood's corpse. It was simple. It was easy to know that the filth that had taken away her sister and disgraced her family was dead. He was nothing, but for all her sister's crimes her death was not so simple.

Grounding her teeth together, Bella slowly turned to face the traitor. She was paler than usual and as Bella stared into the eyes that were so similar to her own, fury filled her veins. Bella did not flinch, but her wand did not move.

After all that had happened, she could not escape how similar Andromeda was to her and Narcissa. She could not forget how they had grown up together, and how her family would still mourn her loss. She tried to push it away, but still the image of a five year old Andromeda was difficult to wipe away.

"Bella," Rodolphus said softly behind her as he gently touched her elbow. It was a strange day when she did not wrench away from the public display of affection. "You do not have to do this. No one would think you were weak."

She wanted to scream because she knew he was telling the truth. Glaring at him, she raised her wand. Instead of green light, the crimson beam of a stunner escaped. Andromeda crumpled to the ground and Rabastan did not stop her descent.

There was still one more problem; the baby.

She eyed off the infant, who was not even one, and was still wailing. Her gaze was filled with disgust. Produced from such a union, it was a piece of trash. This time it was easier to know what needed to be done. She did not hesitate as she stepped towards the bawling brat in the crib, and was about to strike until she was stopped by Rodolphus grabbing her again.

"I would not do that." His voice was level, but Bella only detected anger as she spun on her heel and narrowly avoided cursing him.

"Why?" she snarled. "I have no reason to listen to you, Rodolphus. The brat can do nothing more than cry."

"It would destroy your sister."

"You think I care!" she screamed as she tried to pull away from Rodolphus' grip. "Maybe I want to see her that way."

"Then just kill her now. Losing her child would be the death of her. Besides, she is only a baby. Even you could not kill a baby."

Bella glared back with fury as Rabastan slid in. "Yeah, Bella, maybe Rod is right and-"

"I don't need your input," she roared back. She faced both of them off before she threw her hand into the air. "Fine, just do whatever you want with the brat."

Kicking the unconscious body of her sister just because she could, she finally yanked her arm from Rodolphus' slack grip and picked up the body. She deliberately squeezed her hard as she spun on the spot to Apparate.

She was not sure she had made the right decision, but at least the Mudblood was dead. At least Narcissa would be happy and at least it was done. At least the Black name could be healed.

* * *

Narcissa was lost in her own little world. The elves that scurried around her feet in anticipation of one of her mother's parties or her father who occasionally stuck his head into the room did not even attract her gaze. She was thoroughly engulfed in her book.

The novel had been suggested by Francesca Greengrass, whose recommendation she normally would have ignored if she was not thoroughly bored by Lucius and Bella, who were both busy at the Ministry. The handsome blonde hero on the front cover was another drawcard.

She had convinced herself that an occasionally inappropriate scene was no reason to stop reading the book, but it was when she was in the middle of such an episode, where the hero was slowly undoing the heroine's wedding dress, that the commotion started from the Entrance Hall. Looking up at the bang, she marked it down as being one of the elves being clumsy enough to drop something as she returned to the pages. She was quite taken with the description of the hero's rippling muscles when another crash sounded, this time followed by a scream of frustration.

Her gaze locked where the sound was coming from as she reluctantly stood. She placed the book on the arm chair and hoped silently that no one would open it as she rose with grace as accustomed to her upbringing. She strode out of the room and past the lines of family portraits and gorgeous pot plants before she entered the entrance hall. The grandeur did not attract her attention, focused on the occupants as she was. As a strange occurrence, her parents stood gasping from the top of the stairs at two figures in the middle of the room. Even Bellatrix, covered in blood with her hair in tangles, meant nothing.

Only the other woman on the floor was important.

"Dromeda?" she muttered softly her mouth opening and shutting with shock. As if she was hypnotised, she slowly approached her two sisters. Something in her chest stung and beat faster.

However, before she was able to reach out and touch her, she started to squirm and come to life. Andromeda groaned softly possibly in pain as her arms slid under her as she pushed herself onto her knees. Her eyes, which were so similar to Bella's, must have recognised the surroundings, but it seemed like she hardly saw them as she looked up to where Bella stood. Anger shone in her eyes, and she did not flinch despite the wand pointed at her forehead.

Andromeda looked just as angry. Despite not having a wand in her hand, she looked like an angry lion. Narcissa did not know what the strangest part of this situation was: Andromeda, Bella, or the way everyone was frozen.

"What has happened?" their father asked, his voice tense as he slowly descended the grand staircase with their mother trailing along behind him.

Neither sister answered. Both continued to glare at each other. Bella was first to break the deadlock, but not vocally. Kicking out, she slammed her boot into Andromeda's jaw. 'Dromeda whimpered softly, but it was overshadowed by the scream that escaped Cissy's throat.

"Bella!"

She had not seen Andromeda in years, but somehow her heart went out to her and she fell on her knees to clutch the woman who was still her sister. She reached for her arm, recoiling slightly at the scarlet sticky substance that met her finger, but she persisted and lightly tried to lift her up.

She was shoved off right away. For some reason, her sister did not appreciate the gesture, and Narcissa narrowly avoided falling back over in an unbecoming way as she sat on her knees beside her.

"Andy," she moaned softly but she was ignored by the other parties.

"Again, what has happened?"Her father repeated his words - this time with a clear irritation that was unusual for him to display - as he reached the level marble floor. "Bella, what did you do?"

Her sister did not seem bothered that she was blamed. Her eyes flicked to her approaching father but she did not back down.

"The Mudblood is dead," she said, more angrily than remorsefully as she glared back, seeming to be waiting for anyone to oppose her. "The blood traitor is back and can cease to mar the Black name by her very existence."

Narcissa looked at Andromeda as soon as Bella started talking. The Mudblood was dead - the very reason she had left them all. Her sister did not object or show any kind of emotion, just stared straight ahead like she was dead. Maybe inside she was.

Without saying anything, Cissy reached for her again. Andromeda's skin was smooth and warm, almost like she had never left. She flinched, but Cissy only held her tighter.

She would not let go.

"Will you stay, Andromeda? Will you return to being a proper Black?" Their father's voice was brutal and demanding.

Andromeda's gaze at the wall did not flinch, nor did she open her mouth.

"Andromeda..." their mother said softly in a plea that was unusual to hear from her."You can come back. All you need to do is return to being a Black."

Still there was no answer. Bella huffed in annoyance and stepped around Andromeda, but her attention was drawn to the door by a short cry. Rodolphus entered with Rabastan behind him and in his arms was a bundle. Tiny arms flailed and struck, and the baby continued to cry. Even before her sister jumped back to life and threw herself onto her feet, the identity of the baby was painfully apparent.

"Dora," she muttered softly in a voice Cissy had not heard for so long as she walked towards Rodolphus in a trance. "Give her to me."

He might have if Bella might not have spoken up.

"If you comply with our demands," Bella hissed her voice cold and bitter. Andromeda froze but her eyes remained rooted on her daughter. "Stay and behave, and you can have your daughter."

Andromeda's shoulders tensed and, when she spoke, her voice was like a knife and she still did not turn around. "You kidnapped me. You destroyed my home. You hurt my daughter. You ki- killed my husband... and now you expect me to just do what you say. You must be mad."

Bellatrix only laughed. "Yes, Andromeda, I do expect you to do what we say. After all, we are family."

The smile on her sister's face chilled her as she turned and left, motioning for Rodolphus to release the child. The pink haired babe ran at Andromeda, who wrapped her arms tightly around her as if to shield her from the outside world.

Cissy watched on the sidelines, her throat tight.

She was not sure how she thought about having her sister back.


	6. Once A Blood Traitor

Again I would like to apologise that this chapter is not betad since my beta seems to have disappeared. I will hopefully edit this chapter at a later date with a chapter that has been betad but for now I hope you can enjoy! We do have a bellamort scene of sorts, but unfortunately the bellamort scenes I know a number of people are waiting for may not be for another few chapters. There are some plots that are occurring but once everything falls into place there will be lots of IC bellamort to enjoy.

* * *

There was considerable information that was unknown or not considered about Lord Voldemort. His enemies or followers may have assumed he was so powerful he just existed in the same constant state. He did not begrudge such opinions since they highlighted his power.

However, the truth was, in some ways, his daily routine could resemble a mere mortal. At the crack of dawn his bloodied eyes flicked open to his room that was still modest. His bed may have been king sized but it was nothing more than what could exist in another's home. Yet, he did not resent that fact it was not worthy of him since things would soon change. He would not have to wait much longer. Renovations for the accommodations set aside for the Minister of Magic should be finished in a few months.

Voldemort did not pause to rest. He only sat bolt up and tossed his long skinny legs over the side of the bed in one fluid motion. Throwing a simple black dressing gown over his bony body, he set off to his bathroom.

His actual grooming process only took him a short while until he descended into the kitchen. It might surprise others, but he did not have house elves. Elves were positioned in old family manors and he had not inherited such a building after the squandering of the Gaunt line. He would have been more concerned about that, but he had adapted to looking after himself and that way he did not have to worry about anyone attempting (and, of course, failing) to harm him.

Entering the room the Prophet was already waiting for him. As Minister any important news would have been delivered to him by his new workers who had the incorrect title of advisors. However, it was always wise to check the media in case he had to contend with incompetent fools who failed to communicate important stories.

One glance made it quite clear his assumption was correct as he stared down at a picture of a man he had never seen but had heard about. The headline made it even plainer.

_Man Brutally Murdered In His Own Home_

_At five o'clock this morning the Magical Law Enforcement Squad was called to a home in the quiet town of Whitley, Dorest to find the disfigured corpse of muggleborn and modest radio personality, Ted Tonks. There was no evidence of the murderer and his wife and his not even one year old daughter were missing. Rumours are circulating that an Auror was present at the scene leading to the suggestion there may be ministerial involvement in the crime. _

He did not need to read anything else. From the moment he had read the name it was painfully apparent who was culpable. It was very clear what Ministry Auror would target mudblood Ted Tonks.

His yes wand was in his hand in a moment as he raised it and murmured a complicated spell under his breath while he concentrated on the suspect. The summoning did not ease his frustration in fact it only increased his ire. It simmered and seethed. He could not sit down, but stood behind one of the simple wooden chairs and glared down at the Prophet article as he continued to read it.

He did not care about the death of a mudblood. He would have been happier if every mudblood on the planet perished, but the timing was appalling. The link was there to his Ministry. It was easy to make the connection and it would make it seem like he was killing mudbloods. That was not his plan. He knew it would stir the fires of a rebellion so he was prepared to hide his true intentions for the moment. It was only later that he would alternate and insert his true priorities. Purebloods would rule and mudbloods would perish.

Inevitably one of his Death Eaters did not share his beliefs and was ruining his plan.

It was probably a wise that the culprit arrived swiftly as every moment of waiting was increasing his fury.

Her hair was tussled from sleep and her robes were creased like she had worn them yesterday. He might have conceded that these factors were only because she had arrived here so quickly and at a speed that no one else would, but considering his frustration he did not dwell on any of these factors but only straightened up and observed Bellatrix with a severe glare.

"Bellatrix," he hissed like a serpent about to strike before she could even open her mouth. "Do you know what you have done?"

Her eyes were wide and her mouth opened a few times either in terror or uncertainty he did not care. "I- my Lord I'm not sure I-"

"The Prophet," he snapped his composure breaking for a moment as his pitch increased before he controlled himself and the paper soared towards her; the image on the front directed at her face. "Do _not _attempt to play with me. I know you were responsible. I suggest you do not lie to me."

She nodded slowly her eyes only glancing at the paper briefly before she stared at him transfixed as always despite his obvious irritation. "Yes, Master I did. I did kill him, but that mudblood filth deserved to die and he was-"

"I do not care that he is a mudblood. I care about what this means," he snarled cutting her off as he strode towards her. She flinched but she did not attempt to fight him or flee as he curled his hand around her neck. She gasped softly as he slammed her against the wall. It must have hurt but her eyebrows only knitted in pain for a moment before she went back to staring at him with obsession. "You foolish little girl. You have no idea what this has done. We are meant to be restoring peace for the moment. Mudblood killing is for later but now we need to keep control of our position not confirm people's opinion of us as monsters."

The corners of her eyes filled with water, but he suspected it was only from disappointing him. He dug his nails into the side of her neck in a way that was designed to cause pain rather than choke her as she spluttered, "I- I'm sorry, Master, but he-"

He threw her from him. The problem with Bella was her cursed obsession meant actions of violence at close proximity were savoured rather than dreaded. Directing his wand, he gave her no chance to respond or protest as he fired a silent Cruciatus Curse. Her mouth opened wide in a high pitched scream as her body seized up and then released itself in spasms. He watched the display without emotion as he directed his rage into the spell. He could have been quite content to keep it up for hours, but his self control and was larger than the desire that as he released the curse.

"You best hope you have not ruined everything," he said his voice soft again as he stood over her. Kicking her in the ribs so she was on her back, he placed his boot on her chest and pressed down painfully. "If you have I will not hesitate to kill you. You may be useful, but your use will disappear if you ruin this chance for me."

Her eyes shone with more sorrow than fear as she struggled to recover from the pain and speak through the pressure he was placing on her chest. "I will make it up to you."Her voice was breathy and rough from her struggle to breath and her previous screams as she stared straight into his eyes. "I swear it to you, Master. There will be disruption. I won't allow your Ministry to fall."

He was unconvinced but he allowed her to continue. "We shall see." His eyes cold he slowly removed his foot and stepped away. "I expect you in the Ministry in half an hour when you can start fixing your mess. Now you are dismissed."

She was slow to find her feet but aware that he was not to be trifled with today she left.

He followed behind her. Fixing the ice back into face, he was careful to stomp on the face of Ted Tonks still showing on the front page of the Prophet before he set off to the Ministry.

* * *

Narcissa's soft pale hand wrapped lightly on door to the polished room that was occupied for the first time in two years. It was the tenth time in the past twenty four hours she had been in this position, but she was determined to try once again. An elf laden with sandwiches stood beside her acting as her current excuse to try and enter the room. Unlike the other times when she had been hesitant, now she was sure she wanted to enter.

The reappearance of Andromeda had shocked the household. Bellatrix had uttered little and Rodolphus only a little more about the reasons for her arrival. After reading the paper she knew what Bella had done, including murder, but, despite the shock, Narcissa could not bring herself to be upset by the situation.

She had missed Andromeda.

She did love Bellatrix. She had been her only remaining sister and they were close to a point, though they were very different people. It was rare that Bella could ever be counted on to be offer comfort or advice. Andromeda could.

She had abided by her family's wishes and had not written to her after she had fled with the mudblood, but it had been hard. She had longed to see her and now that she had her back she would not throw away that chance. Her parents may continue to shun Andromeda and a part of Narcissa may still be upset about the betrayal, but Cissy would at least have to try to rekindle some semblance of a relationship with her long lost sister.

No answer sounded after her knocking and Cissy's blue eyes knotted in frustration as she glared at the wood as if it was the reason for her slight. It was not strictly appropriate but after the ninth time, Narcissa had run out of patience. Turning the handle, she stepped inside.

The room was a similar design to hers; there was a bay window, a door on the side leading to a bathroom and a bedroom set in a pale wood that reflected the light from the candles. The elves had swept away all the dust and made the bed, but it seemed unused and the surface was completely clean without any trace that anyone lived there.

Narcissa was only able to catch Andromeda's head turning away from where she sat on the cushioned window seat and stared at the grounds. Her daughter was in her arms, her head resting on Andromeda's shoulder as she held her close. The scene was a little shocking and somehow Narcissa felt more than a little jealous though she was not sure why.

"You did not answer me," she snapped anger suddenly in her voice as she shut the door behind her. Andromeda's back straightened but she did not speak. "I have already knocked on your door ten times today."

There was no response. Hesitatingly, Narcissa stepped into the room forgetting the elf still trailing behind her and her guise of entering. "I have not seen you for two years. Are you not going to talk to me?"

"You do not want to talk to me."The voice of her sister said softly though she did not turn. It was mellow and blank like she was trying to suppress a wave of torment. "You do not need to pretend."

"I am not pretending!" Realising she sounded unbecoming she corrected herself as she continued to speak. "I do want to talk to you. You are still my sister."

The smallest of sighs came from the figure by the window. "No Cissy I know what I am. I'm the blood traitor. I know that is all I will be."

The confession took her by surprise mostly because it was true but she did not expect her sister to ever say that. It was something she could not argue with.

Hesitating she stepped back for the first time and she nearly ran into the elf. Her eyes traced over the pathetic creature before she gestured for it to step forward. "I brought you lunch," she said softly just to say something. "Try to eat."

Throwing another cautious glance she turned and headed out of the door vowing to try and speak to her again when Andromeda might be in better spirits.

She did not notice the glimmers of tears in Andromeda's eyes as she cast one quick glance at Narcissa's departing back.


	7. Peaceful Protests

**A/N:** Again another chapter that had not been betad but I now have a beta so I'm currently going through and editing all previous chapters. From next chapter, the chapters uploaded will have been betad.

Onto this chapter I did enjoy it quite a bit. This time Bella has some interaction with the other important man in her life- Rodolphus. I had fun contrasting and comparing him and his relationship to Voldemort.

Enjoy!

* * *

Bellatrix had spent the whole day hidden under paperwork and memos doing what she had promised the Dark Lord; patching up any errors that had materialised or any doubts that had started to emerge. She would never question the Dark Lord, but nothing had occurred and, if the words were not ludicrous, she might have believed he was wrong.

By the time she finally emerged from her office and strode to the Atrium, her bones were still aching from the curses the Dark Lord had unleashed and her heart stung even more painfully. Her stomach was swirling and, while she continued to walk confidentially just like it was a normal day, she was more ruffled than she could explain.

There was no greater fault than failing the Dark Lord.

She could have returned home. She could have gone back and sulked and seethed. It was a tempting prospect. It would have been even more appealing to appear at the Dark Lord's side, but she was wise enough to not sink to such tactics. In the past she had appeared at his home without leave, but it was rare that she was not thrown out and it was only ever a success when he was in a good mood. When he was obviously angry at her, despite her urges and desires, she was forced to control herself.

It left another option of where she would venture for distraction.

A loud crack like a whip slamming on the ground, echoed around the valley. Ruler cut lawns surrendered the hills along with a manor snuggled in the trough. Its old grey stone had the appearance of an ancient elaborate manor. It was larger than the Black Estate, but Bella preferred to think about the building's shady history and the rumours of how the family had almost lost it rather than criticise her family line.

As she strode over the grounds, her eyes glanced over the symmetrical windows noting which had a candle burning and which ones were coated in darkness. It was at least simple to tell; Rodolphus was so predictable.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door she immediately signalled over the wrinkled and grubby elf. "Where is Rodolphus?" she demanded her eyes drifting over the creature with disgust. Her mother would have had a fit that she had not greeted Rodolphus' parents, but she did not care about her opinion.

"This way, Madam." It bowed its head and she trailed behind it without a care in the world. It at least moved swiftly or she would have kicked it in its behind. It was blissfully only quickly when the elf stopped in front of the door. She did not wait for it to open it, but pushed it aside and stepped inside herself.

She could safely say she was not sure how to define her relationship with Rodolphus. They worked well together, probably as he normally went along with what she said unless it was completely wrong. It was not often she acknowledged that occurred, but she supposed occasionally Rodolphus' advice could be sensible and useful.

Now she was after a meeting that had nothing to do with advice. She did not need to be told that she had rushed into the situation and that it was her fault that the Dark Lord was angry at her. She thought that way already. No, Rodolphus would be used for another purpose.

For a distraction.

Rodolphus was seated behind his desk his head buried behind mountains of paper work that were strangely too large and disorganised for Rodolphus, though she hardly concentrated on that and moved further into the room without pause or hesitation. The click of her heels on the wooden floor drew Rodolphus' attention as he looked up the faintest hint of surprise and a smile sliding onto what she could even acknowledge as handsome features.

"Bella?" he asked standing automatically like his mother had no doubt taught him as he smoothed down his robes and expression. "What are you doing here?"

She ignored his question and reached his side. Stepping around his desk she grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him back down onto the chair he had just risen from. A slight intact of breath escaped his throat, but she silenced him with the gleam in her eye and her body as she slid onto his lap. Her legs fell comfortably around his waist as she crashed her lips to his.

It was not about what she thought about him, but it was somehow comforting to be engulfed by the physical sensations and surges through his body. Rodolphus was so different to the Dark Lord; she never would have thrown her Lord down onto a chair, but with Rodolphus she had that power and influence. She longed for that and thrived on it as he feasted her neck with kisses as she tugged lightly on his silky locks and pushed him closer to his skin.

She did not even try to stifle a moan. It was easier to not worry about what Rodolphus thought compared to the Dark Lord who she constantly tried to impress.

Rodolphus did not need any further urging and pulled down the front of her robes and lacy bra to place his mouth over her breasts. The sounds from her increased as she pulled him closer. She could feel the beginning of his arousal starting to form and pressing into her dampening underwear. It drove her mad. Bella was someone who was accustomed to waiting and slid her hands down Rodolphus' still clothed chest, undoing the buttons as she went before she reached his belt. She was not motivated enough to tease him. She just wanted to have him inside her and forget about everything.

Unbuckling his belt she shifted in her seat giving her the opportunity to free him and to be able to stroke him. Her hands pumped up and down his length and it was Rodolphus' time to gasp and pant. She could not say she did not like watching him under her control and wanting her, but she had waited long enough. She just wanted to feel.

Once he was ready she raised herself and lowered herself onto him. The noises of pleasure were shared by both as he brushed against all the right places inside her. They had been doing this for years. The future indicated they would probably continue to do so when she finally married him like everyone wanted. Their victory over the Ministry had brought her another year or two of freedom, but it did not mean he was still not a wonderful lover when her first choice was unwilling.

Raising and lowering herself over him on her knees, Rodolphus still continued to worship her breast as and she continued to try to keep the steady rhythm by balancing her hands on his shoulders. It was good just to feel and to ignore everything else. She could take down her frustration by moving up and down and sinking her nails deeper into his skin. He did not care and that is why he was so wonderful.

She could even acknowledge that as she felt her insides start to burn pleasantly. Without even bothering to be quiet she hollered loudly and arched her back dramatically. The way she clenched around him must have drew Rodolphus closer as he hissed louder against her breasts and held her waist to control her movement. It was a sign that she did care for Rodolphus as she allowed him to as she rode out his pleasure until he spilled himself inside of her.

Resting her chin against the top of his head, she did not move away in an indication sign there was something wrong as her heart rate slowly returned to normal. She did not say anything, but, when Rodolphus got his breath bac,k he must have been in a happy enough spirit to want to speak.

"I do not know why you came here, but I cannot complain," he said softly his lips still brushing against her skin as he spoke. She noted he only waited until he had enough breath back before he spoke.

"He is angry," she murmured the faintest amount of vulnerability entering her voice. "He is furious about the death of the mudblood."

It caused Rodolphus to look up. He seemed slightly surprised. She was not sure what caused the emotion, but she did not bother thinking about it.

"Why?"

"I don't know!" she snapped before she could help herself and revealing her frustration at the Dark Lord that could normally not even be allowed to be displayed by her. "He thinks that the mudblood's death could cause opposition to flourish. He is angry at me."

Her last sentence was oddly hushed revealing the whole problem; nothing devastated her as much as disappointing her Lord. If Rodolphus was upset or annoyed at her complaining about another man after they had just had sex he did not say anything. He only held her close.

"It is fine. It will be fine."

She closed her eyes and wanted to believe him.

* * *

The basement of the Hogs Head was even more dark and dingy than the area above. It had avoided the very little amount of cleaning Aberforth exercised upstairs yet he had still objected to Albus' suggestion to just allow him to add some colour. Regardless, it was useful for today's goal.

A round table had been pushed into the room with the few who were still willing to fight Voldemort squished into the room. Ever since Voldemort had taken over the Ministry it had been harder and, despite the promise he had made to him, Albus would never rest. Voldemort could never be allowed to control the Ministry and continue to destroy everyone's lives.

Today had made this even clearer. A young innocent man was dead. Albus knew he might not be the last. He could not help but feel guilty that, if he had done something from the beginning, poor Ted Tonks might still be alive. The only way he could not look that way was to glance at the faces of those who could be killed if he requested they directly oppose Voldemort.

Still they did have as much concern for their own welfare.

"Others will suffer the same fate as Ted Tonks," Edgar Bones declared his chest puffed up but his eyes kind as he tried to urge the others to agree with him. "Mr Tonks is just another example of a victim and more will come. You Know Who will never be peaceful. We can't wait. We cannot wait until others die. This is our best chance."

"No need to be so reckless, Bones," the now retired Auror Alastor declared leaning his scarred face over the table. "Anyone who puts their head up will be shot down. We need timing and-"

"Ted is dead!" the young Benjoy Fenwick declared pushing himself onto his feet and whipping away his sandy hair and the few tears that had slid from his eyes. "We have to do something! I cannot stand here and have more blood on my hands!"

Albus felt the same as he watched Benjy sadly through his fingers that were pressed together. It was just a matter of trying to decide what course would cause less death and destruction.

"We just need to be careful," Marlene McKinnon said. She was actually crying despite the fact she had never met Ted Tonks. "We need to make the right decision so everyone can still be safe."

"A protest." Edgar declared immediately as if he had planned it all along. "A simple protest. We can show Ted's picture and show that this man was wrongly killed because of these monsters. They cannot harm peaceful protestors. They are not that silly. It will be fine."

Alastor was not convinced as he grunted in frustration in his gruff voice. "If you really think that those murderous Death Eaters will not kill every one of you..."

"What do you think?" Edgar interrupted turning to Albus for the first time.

Albus tried to smile as he tried to balance all of the competing views. They all trusted him. They all thought he was right. He did have a brilliant mind, but even now it was hard to know what the right course of action was.

"If everyone is careful a protest may be wise." He did not reveal his hesitations to the others since he knew they relied on him. "But everyone must be careful."

Edgar and Benjy smiled with relief as they quickly turned to start organising their protest. Albus hoped he was right. He hoped everyone was safe.

* * *

It was just as Bella was walking down the corridor having returned from her lunch break when news reached the Ministry about the disturbance in Diagon Alley. The message had technically not been for her. It only mentioned a group of ten involved in a peaceful protest and the request had merely been from shop keepers for members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad to monitor the situation and ensure there were no major disruptions.

Bella had quickly ignored that original request. Unlike the person who had delivered the message she knew what was happening; this was disturbance the Dark Lord had mentioned. She had vowed she would not let his grasp over the Ministry be altered and she would do whatever it took to ensure it was safe. It was her job and she would make her Master proud.

Apparating into the alley personally with a group of twenty scarlet robes Aurors, her eyes flicked over the group of men and women in a group standing in front of the marble steps of Gringotts. They was obviously some sort of organisation as they all chanted together and they all held pictures featuring one man; Ted Tonks.

The feeling of sickness on her stomach at the original brief thought that this protest was caused by her actions was quickly obliterated replaced by anger that these people were causing problems all because of some stupid mudblood. Obviously they were all fools and deserved to be punished.

"Look at the face of this innocent!" One man with sandy hand hollered from the front as he waved the picture dramatically. "Those who control the Ministry did this! They killed him! They will kill other soon too!"

The words burned in her ears filling her with fury at the accusation that the man aimed at the Dark Lord. It did not matter that he might be correct, but it was enough to set Bella off.

Growling she spun on her heel to face the Aurors behind her. "I want every one of them captured," she hissed her fury evident by the gleam in her eye and the flush of heat in her cheeks. "If they resist curse them. I don't care if they die I just want this done with and them punished."

She noted the looks of hesitation from some but as she raised her wand and the majority charged forward they were lost and forced forward. Bella grinned to herself as she watched the curses fly. Even the screams did not mean anything to her. She knew this was right. She knew this could make her Lord pleased.

How could there be anything wrong with that?


	8. Don't Shoot The Messenger

**A/N**: I would like to apologise that this chapter is shorter than usual, but I hope the contents will well and truly make up for it. This is one of the main ideas that made me start writing this fic and it is something that I have not really seen explored by anyone else. It is the catalyst for a lot of the events that have happened so far and it is what really points the fic to its main purpose. It is a purpose you will not know right now but I guarantee it will be worth it.

* * *

It was Albus' rule that, no matter what other tasks were on his plate, if he was in the castle, he would always be down in the Great Hall at breakfast. He knew it always presented a good face for the students and encouraged them, and that if the headmaster could make it downstairs to breakfast, they could as well.

However, sometimes even Albus Dumbledore had to break his own rules. It was for the best. The staff and the students could not see him like this.

Spread over his impressively engraved desk was the front page of the _Prophet_ with the headline _'Peaceful Protest Violently Prohibited'_. Despite its controversial nature, the headline was not what attracted his attention" - or something similar; the pictures did. Edgar Bones and Marlene McKinnon both looked up at him. They were two innocents who had been victims of Lord Voldemort.

It was hard to not reflect on his failures to stop Tom Riddle becoming a monster, but he but he had had enough practice forcing down nearly a century's worth of horrors. Still, he could not ignore the pain that he had been the cause of those deaths. He had had encouraged them. Their blood was now on his hands.

The faintest of tears slid out from under his half-moon spectacles and down his aged face as he slowly stood. His strides were level and strong, but even he was hesitant at what he had to do. It could not keep going like this. There would be more Edgars and Marlenes, and more innocents would die.

He did not have the numbers to commit to a full-scale attack on the Ministry, but he could destabilise Tom's control. Albus had always known the source of Tom's influence: his alleged purity of blood. It was based on a lie and he he had always had the ability to the ability to point that out. However, he was not like Tom. He did not believe a person's blood status was important – highlighting the fact Tom had a Muggle father would be hypocritical and had seemed wrong to Albus. He had kept Tom's secret.

Until now.

Pulling down one of the vials next to his Pensieve, Albus lifted his wand to his temple and concentrated on all the relevant memories: the Gaunt house, the day at the orphanage, the boy arriving at Hogwarts and how his identity linked to Lord Voldemort.

He had to do this. It was the only way for the support around Tom to fail. There would be open rebellion and those who had been quiet for fear of persecution from the Death Eaters would be able to stand up and help restore the Ministry. This would work.

Albus tried to focus on that rather than the voice that told him scornfully that he was resorting to Tom's level as he slid a cork snugly into the glass vial. The whites of the memories looked back at him tauntingly, but he pushed aside his guilt as he walked back towards his desk. He did not sit down, but leaned over his desk and started scribbling a letter to a person who would not help but pay attention and publish the information.

* * *

The only thing stranger than a Black getting a letter from Albus Dumbledore, offering assistance, was a Black not immediately hurling the letter into a fireplace. Pollux was well aware that this unwritten rule was important and should be obeyed, but as his eyes looked down at the calligraphy he could not help but adjust his spectacles to better examine the words.

It should have been ridiculous. The parchment had to be wrong – how could the Dark Lord have a Muggle father? However, the more he read, the more the stronger the case it was building. It all fit together.

He remembered the name Tom Riddle. He remembered Alpharad declaring that he was not to be blamed for not being made Prefect because there was no way anyone could compete with Tom Riddle for the position. He remembered the strange night that an orphan boy had been invited to Walburga's seventeenth birthday because there was no denying his even remembered asking five years later where the boy had gone and being informed that no one knew.

The timeline did fit. The timeline fit so well with the with how old the Dark Lord seemed to be, though his true age was anyone's was a possibility. He could inquire his relatives, perhaps even his granddaughter who held a position in the upper echelons of the Ministry, but he quickly dismissed that idea. She may be family, but rumours of her obsessive infatuation with the Dark Lord had circulated. She might know bits and pieces of information (he had enough faith that his granddaughter would never serve the son of a Muggle), but he could never ask for fear of what she would do to those who would question the Dark Lord. At the very least he suspected she would inform the Dark Lord that he had peppered her with her some strange questions.

He would have to rely on Albus Dumbledore for his answers.

As he made to stand, his fingers ran up and down the glass vial he had been sent, and he strode to the door to call for his secretary.

"Gretchen," he called loudly, abandoning his cool composure in the rush to get the information he needed. "Get me a Pensieve **. **There is evidence I need to assess."

As she scampered off down the corridor. Pollux, watched her leave for a brief moment before he re-entered his office. Now that no one else was there, he collapsed into his chair.

If the Dark Lord was really a half-blood, could he actually publish the story?

It was likely that it would be catastrophic for a Ministry that showed the first real signs of restoring the balances by handing the power to the purebloods and, if he did publish, it could spell disaster but could he afford not to? Could he lose his entire business as he watched someone else publish the story and their newspaper rise to fame? No, even if it spelled disaster, Pollux would look after himself and his business.

He tried his best to remain calm, but Pollux did not feel any better, despite having made an important decision. He still had to confirm the truth in Dumbledore's story.

)o(

The high-pitched siren erupted from the walls. The noise filled the country home, surprising even Lord Voldemort, who immediately bolted upright like someone had flipped a switch and he was suddenly wide awake.

With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared in his hand. He tossed his legs over his bed and stood alert and attentive, despite it being nearly four in the morning. He knew what the noise was. He had specifically cast layers of protective spells around his home to alert him when anyone entered his property. No one had tried to actively harm him so far, but letting anyone see him with his guard down was dangerous, so it was without a doubt useful to have such precautions nonetheless.

Aiming his wand at the wardrobe, he silently pointed at a set of robes and back at himself. Instantly, the robes vanished and reappeared over him, falling in waves of wispy cloth. He cast one more glance at a mirror in his wardrobe before he walked out of the room, satisfied that nothing was amiss in his image.

The hallway was quiet, but the sound of knuckles on wood echoed from downstairs. From the top of the stairs, he murmured a spell under his breath to open the door and the person outside stepped in.

Rosier's normally impeccable golden hair was soaked from the rain, sticking to his forehead. His face was flushed, he was breathing heavily and his blue eyes were both furious and terrified. There was likely a good reason Rosier had interrupted him solitude. Voldemort also suspected the news would not be anything that would positively impact his reign.

"I trust you have a good reason for coming here at this hour, Nicholas," Voldemort said softly as he descended the stairs. He did not bother hiding the impatience from his voice. "I assume you know what time it is."

"Yes, my Lord," he replied immediately, his voice more like a pant as he bowed his head clumsier than he usually did. "But I know you would want to see this despite the time."

Rosier placed his hand in his robe, pulling out a rolled-up copy of the _Prophet_. Voldemort pressed his teeth together in irritation, well aware of the problems a negative story in the press could cause. Without allowing Rosier any time to explain, he summoned the paper to him. As soon as his eyes grazed over the front cover, he froze.

'_The Dark Lord's Secret Muggle Father'_

He did not get any further when the paper burst into flames. In a rare act of losing self-control, he let out a loud hissof anger as his eyes flared red. He had spent his entire life hiding the secret of his upbringing from when he was eleven and starting Hogwarts until now, until now, thirty-six years later. It was harder when he possessed that filthy Muggle name, but his current identity as Lord Voldemort should have made such a revelation impossible.

He was incorrect **.**

Before he could stop himself and, abandoning that ridiculous adage about not shooting the messenger his wand flung a Cruciatus Curse at Rosier. The man was taken completely by surprise, falling forward with an ear-piercing scream. It echoed around the hall as Voldemort pumped all his fury into the curse.

No one could know. No one could dare ever express that, but they did not understand he was so much more than a half-blood. He was greater than anyone, blood status or not. No one else would understand his power. No one could ever understand.

Rage engulfed his heart, spilling over to his features. He continued the curse for a few more moments, stopping just short of sending Rosier to insanity. Rosier was still lying on the ground, barely twitching. Voldemort did not even spare him a second glance as he turned around and headed up the stairs.

For the first time, he was unsure of his next move.


	9. When You Are Angry

A/N: Another chapter that has not been betad, but I will edit it with the edited chapter when I get a chance. It contains the bellamort scene as requested. As well, when Druella mentions Sirius I she seems a Black who was Phineas Nigellus' brother who died when he was only 8. Enjoy

* * *

It was difficult to concentrate on breathing, but she focused her mind on the action. She drew a deep breath of air into her lungs and released it slowly. She pulled in another puff and then another ensuring each breath was identical in length and timing.

Andromeda knew it was easier to concentrate on something as simple as breathing. She could try and ignore the sorrow in her heart and the anger that made her want to scream and lunge across the table at her 'family'. She knew they were not. Her mother was only concentrating on saving face and trying to ensure a marriage that could advantage the Blacks. Father just wanted everything to be perfect and Narcissa seemed like she cared, but she doubted her affections were genuine. The only relief was that Bellatrix had not pulled herself out of bed. Her presence always made self control a harder task.

Breakfast was easier. She could sit straight backed and slowly sip her tea with as much grace as if she had never left. She did not have to worry about food and how upsetting it was to see dishes that were not cooked by Ted. She did not have to pretend to eat when every mouthful was impossible to swallow down her dry throat and how, when it was forced into her stomach, it made her physically ill.

The flutter of wings above signalled the arrival of the post. Andromeda did not flinch, but continued to sip her tea and stare over Narcissa's shoulder at the panelled walls. There was nothing for her and she did not want to see anything. It would just worsen the pain.

"This is for you, Narcissa," their mother said with unquestionable pride in her voice. She heard the shuffling of papers, and Andromeda could not help but look in the corner of her eye at the smile that lit her sister's features as she opened the roll of parchment. "Is it from Lucius?"

"It is. We are going to dinner tomorrow." Andromeda knew Narcissa was trying to contain her joy at the news. It was not fair. Why did perfect Narcissa always have her fairy tale ending?

Andromeda waited for the praise from their mother at how Narcissa was amazing for nearly having practically secured a pureblood husband. Instead, when her mother spoke, her voice was filled with surprise and concern.

"Cygnus, what is wrong? You look like you have seen Sirius the First's ghost."

For the first time, Andromeda moved her gaze from the wall to their father. He held the Prophet in front of her with only his balding forehead and bespectacled eyes visible. Even from such a small glimpse, Andromeda could detect that skin was paler than usual and his eyes were wide and filled with horror.

"He is a half blood," he murmured his voice hushed. "It says the Dark Lord is a half blood."

"How is that possible?" their mother replied as she stood to look over her husband's shoulder at the paper. It was a strange day when their mother commented on politics. "It must be wrong."

"It's father's work," Cygnus replied without looking up from the text he was analysing. "He would never construct a lie like this. It is too dangerous."

"You have no idea what danger really is," The gaze of the table turned to Bella who drawled as she leaned comfortably by the doorway. She was already wearing her scarlet robes of an Auror that no one could get used to seeing on her. The sight always irritated their mother which was why Andromeda assumed she still wore them. "What is going? Everyone looks like they have seen a ghost."

She was filled with confidence as she took her seat beside father. She immediately reached for some rashes of bacon obviously not really interested by what had surprised the rest of the family.

"Have you read the prophet this morning?" Their father's voice was filled with accusation as he slowly lowered his paper. It was unusual for him to address Bella that way and Bella certainly knew that from the way she looked up with confusion.

"No..." she murmured trailing off slightly. "I just woke up. If there is anything important I will be told so at the Ministry."

Still content she looked down at her plate to start cutting her bacon.

"It is about the Dark Lord."

Bella's knife froze for a fraction of a second before she stabbed her fork into her meat. "I do not need the Prophet to tell me anything about the Dark Lord."

"So you knew his father was a muggle?"

The cutlery clattered from her hands as she wrenched the paper from their father's grip. Mother hissed in disapproval, but Andromeda could not help but watch the anger and surprise on her hated sister's face.

"Did you know?" Their father questioned again even more urgently. Bella looked up, but it was only to hurl the paper across the room.

"It is a pile of dragon dung," she hissed throwing her chair to the ground as she stood swiftly. "It is all lies!"

Her fists clenched and unclenched rapidly as she moved to the door.

"Where are you going?" Their father called back urgently. "We have not finished this discussion."

Bella did not look back as she shot back her reply. "I'm going to see the traitor who dared print this load of tripe.

No one moved or tried to stop her. No one was willing to risk their safety even for their father or grandfather.

* * *

Bellatrix could never remember being this angry. Even when Andromeda had left their family for a mudblood, the red in front of her eyes and the fury in her veins was unprecedented. It was one thing to mar her name, but to insult the Dark Lord was blasphemous.

This act was even more appalling.

The headline and words were burned in front of her eyes. How dare anyone suggest the Dark Lord could have a muggle father? It was ridiculous and outrageous. Anyone with any sort of brain would be able to see that the Dark Lord's power and might was only possible in one whose blood was perfectly pure.

If she was not so infuriated she would laugh at the notion that his father could be a muggle. She had never asked him about his parentage, but it was outrageous to question anything about him. She was content to know in her heart that he was a perfect pureblood.

However, own grandfather who should have known this obvious fact had doubted him. The patriarch of their line of the Blacks was a fool and a traitor. Anyone who denied the Dark Lord was a traitor to the pureblood way of life and had to be punished and treated like a mudblood. It did not matter that he was her grandfather. Only his outrageous behaviour was relevant.

Apparating in front of the Diagon Alley offices of the Daily Prophet with a loud crack, a few of the passes stared at her scarlet robes, but she paid them no head. She only marched to the impressive emerald door and wrenched it open.

She remembered the building from the few times she had been here as a child with her father, but she was sure the marble entrance hall had never been so busy. Masses of black robed figures ran back and forth into various doors and owls swooped over head hooting loudly and piercingly. Bella presumed it was a response to the story in the Prophet, but she did not pause for long. She only continued her march to a set of stairs at the back of the building.

Dashing up them like she was in a race, her robes swirled around her, almost tripping her as she reached the top landing. The chaos from below was strangely absent with only the dull echoes from the employees floating up from below. In fact, the only one visible was a secretary perched on her desk with starch like robes possessing on the outside the perfection that her grandfather would require. Bella immediately ignored the way she looked up at her with a questioning stare. She only strode past her to the closed door.

"Miss," she called softly in a high pitched squeak. Bella ignored her curling her hand around the golden handle. "Miss!"

Despite the louder cry, Bella showed no response and pulled open the door with great force. It swung on its hinges slamming into the antique wallpaper behind and causing the man behind the desk to stand straight up and glare furiously.

"Bellatrix," he scolded with all the disrespect as if she was still a little girl. "What is the meaning of this?"

She paid him no head. She only growled under her breath and walked further in noting the paper on his desk.  
"That," she snarled as if it was a dirty word. Her raised arm shook with rage as she removed her wand. "How could you? _How dare you? _You know nothing!"

He must have noticed how dangerously she was glaring at him, but he did not remove his wand. He only hissed under his breath. "I know everything. Do you think I would publish the story if I did not know it was the truth? Open your eyes girl. You are a Black. Blacks do not serve filthy half-"

He did not even finish his sentence before she fired off a Cruciatus Curse. Maybe it was her speed, his age or maybe he did not expect his granddaughter would ever really curse him, but, whatever the case, the curse hit him in his chest. He hollered loudly. His mouth opened in horror as he toppled face first onto his desk. His flailing limbs knocked off ink wells and papers before he slid onto the ground and continued to wither like he was having a seizure.

Slowly Bella drew closer. Standing over him, she kept her wand pointing down at him as she ended the curse.

"You are wrong," she hissed her voice slightly softer and calmer now some of her rage had dissipated. "The Dark Lord is great and mighty. He is perfect and he is pure. Now start writing. I want to see an article revoking the lies you have printed. I want you to write for the word to see that the Dark Lord is a pureblood."

Pollux looked up at her, but he did not respond.

"Answer me!" she screamed suddenly her calmness disappearing as she lashed out with another Cruciatus Curse. He seethed and screamed louder this time. Bella laughed along with the sound until all noise suddenly stopped.

Before she knew what had happened something hit her in the back causing her to stagger forward and for her wand to soar from her hands. Turning, she found the daft secretary looking at her with surprise and terror.

"I-I think you should go Miss," she staggered and spluttered from where she stood in the doorway.

Bella was tempted to ignore her but without a wand in her hand, her grip could only clench around air. Hissing under her breath she turned to her grandfather still lying on the floor. "I expect to see the correction in the paper tomorrow."

Glaring at him, she kicked him once more before she retrieved her wand from the corner and left. All the while the anger did not dissipate. Her whole body was surging with emotion and, for the moment, she could not control what she desired.

* * *

As her heels dug into the lilac carpet that covered the hallway of the First Floor of the Ministry, Bellatrix was immediately struck by the notion that something was not right. It was normally loud and filled with people bustling back and forth. Now, no one was around and, other than the shuffling of her robes, it was silent.

Bella knew it was still early in the morning, but the absence of people was peculiar. Regardless, her heart pounding motivated her and made her feet continue to move towards the Dark Lord's office. His secretary was absent, but she still stepped forward and knocked firmly on the door. Stepping back she waited for a response. Several moments slipped away before the door swung open.

She gasped softly as the Dark Lord stood in front of her. Standing in the doorway, he glared down at her his eyes flaming red and burning with fury. It was easy to forget her anger in when the thrill of his power drifted over her.

"Yes?" he hissed his eyebrows moving upwards and his lips were thin. She knew why no one was on this floor; The Dark Lord was furious. The others must have been too terrified to be near him. She was automatically disgusted. The Dark Lord had a right to be angry, yet everyone should still be near to help serve the Dark Lord no matter what. "I can assume you have a reason for being here."

Taking a long breath, she lowered her head and bowed to her. "I do my Lord. May we speak in private?" His eyes flicked down over her. She froze, but he stepped back and she was allowed to step inside. She heard the door close, but her eyes remained focused on her master as she strode back around so he was in front of her. His pose was stiff and his hands still twitched. "I- it is about the Prophet this morning I-"

She did not see anything amiss until suddenly a pale hand was in her vision and he slapped her across the face. She staggered back slightly, her eyes wide as she unconsciously brought her hand to her scorching cheek. She did not object to being hurt by him, though she could not help but be surprised by the sudden pain.

The Dark Lord did not say anything but stared down at her coldly.

"I- I don't mean to apply it is correct, Master. In fact-" she staggered but she was interrupted.  
"You had best not," he hissed. The fury in his voice made her shudder but she did not feel real fear. "I would think you out of all others would have some form of loyalty."

"No!" She exclaimed too loudly before she realised her mistake and tried to keep calm. "No, my Lord. I wanted to say exactly that. It won't be a problem I assure you. I have visited my grandfather who dared publish such lies. I do not care that he is family. I tortured him until he assured me will take back the words. He will say that they are lies. No one will dare or can ever believe your blood is anything less than pure."

Her breath was uneven from her quick speech. She looked up at him with hesitation half expecting he would hit her again. She could understand why he was angry. It must have been hard for him to not kill her grandfather himself. It was why he was greater than her. She could never stand anyone daring to question her blood status.

His arm suddenly shot out. She did not flinch away even when he grabbed her neck. His nails dug into her throat painfully. It was almost enough to strangle her, but not quite. Her breath was only uneven from the thrill of his touch. Lighting spread in her and, despite the violence behind his actions, she leaned in towards him.

Her Lord's expression did not twitch, though she could have sworn she saw his facial muscles relax slightly, but the guesses at his emotional state quickly disappeared when his lips slammed against hers. Her breath caught in a throat at the blessed contact. It had been more than two months since they had been together intimately. It was not unusual since she knew her Lord, unlike her, had the power to suppress mortal urges in favour of other matters. She knew he was busy so she would never complain she would only savour the opportunity she had to seize him.

She was doing that now as she returned his kiss with desperation as she opened her lips willingly to his demanding tongue. It forced its way through her lips practically devouring her and bruising her lips. She tried to touch him with his hands, but he quickly battered them away as she slammed her into the back wall. A gasp left her lips muted by his skin at the harsh contact. Her body desperately craved him. Every inch screamed to be engulfed by him, but it was over just as quickly as she stepped away. Her body felt empty as she clung to the wall her legs like jelly and her heart racing.

She stared at his turned back waiting desperately for anything. It was so hard not to plead to be allowed to touch him or for him to touch her. It was so hard to keep her lips shut as she spoke softly still with his back to her.

"You are dismissed," he said coolly as he stepped towards the lit hearth staring down in its depths.

The smallest whimper could not help but escape her throat, but she still bowed low.

"Yes, Master," she muttered defeated and dejected.

Turning she left as slow as she could her body still craving him. For the moment she was able to forget about the story in the Prophet.

She would not be able to for much longer.


	10. Doubt

A/N: Here we go! The Blacks mentioned at the beginning are part of the Black Family Tree and, to clear up confusion, Nicholas Rosier is Druella's brother and the boy who went to school with Tom. He is Evan Rosier's father. Also, at the end I realised Bella was absent from this chapter. Have no fear she will be back in the next chapter along with some belated bellamort.

Also, please note the rating in this chapter is for violence at the end of the last scene.

* * *

Narcissa was unsure how she had entered this conversation. It was not the place of ladies to discuss politics. Of course, around Bella or Lucius, she felt more open and willing to air her views, but, when she was under the scrutiny of the greater public, she was aware that it was better to have the appearance of a perfect lady in every way.

Yet, here she was.

It had originally begun as a simple tea for the Black ladies, so Bella had ensured she was absent. Considering the direction of the conversation, Narcissa assumed the non-attendance of Bella was deliberate.

It was like a familiar reunion for everyone who mattered. The head of the family, cousin twice removed, Arcturus, stood tall and firm by the fireplace in the middle of the room to attract the attention of the whole room. He had always been an intimidating presence and it was only ever on her mostly brazen days that even Bella would challenge him.

His two children were also in attendance. Lucretia was perched neatly in a nearby lounge with her husband hiding in the corner. Narcissa knew that no one wanted a Prewett to discuss blood statuses, but it would be wrong to not involve someone who had technically not done anything wrong and whose blood was pure.

Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion were obvious attendants. They were the only married couple she knew where the woman was more vocal and it was the same now when her aunt was in the middle of the discussion. Narcissa was not sure about the inappropriateness of her outspoken aunt, though she was wise enough to not say anything to oppose her.

Her mother and father were of course present with father more outspoken than usual. The third sibling, Alpharad, rejected his invitation apparently because he was on another world tour.

Grandmother Irma and Grandfather Pollux were the last additions to the group. Of course, grandmother was assisting mother with bringing in tea and biscuits whenever it was required. Narcissa felt like she should have been doing the same thing, but there was nothing to do. At least she could sit and listen. Even she could admit it was an interesting conversation.

"And you are sure of your information, Pollux?" Arcturus questioned his eyes narrowed like a hawk examining his prey. "If you are wrong about this you will spell disaster for the Black line."

Her grandfather's pose did not twitch, but his voice were noticeably smaller. "Of course. Do you really expect I would run such an article if I was not certain. I have seen memories which prove the case that the Dark Lord is a half blood."

"Memories from whom?"

Pollux hesitated. He used the space of time without speaking to straighten his pose. "Dumbledore but-"

Arcturus stepped forward his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his wand. "How can you trust the word of Albus Dumbledore? Obviously he would lie in this situation."

It was the first Narcissa had heard about Dumbledore's involvement. It sounded preposterous that anything Dumbledore said could be true.

"Do not take me for a fool, Arcturus," Pollux fired up at once at the insult to his intelligence. "I have seen the memories that indicate exactly what I have said. Dumbledore says the Dark Lord's birth name was Tom Riddle. It is logical. Riddle was born in 1926. He was in his 5th year when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and we know the Dark Lord is the Heir of Slytherin. Everything I know about the boy Riddle fits the Dark Lord, including those who knew him."

There was a slight hush in the room. It was broken by the most unexpected source.

"Tom Riddle." Narcissa turned to find her mother in the doorway a tray filled with tea cups and her pretty face marred by surprise. Druella was always composed and Narcissa could not understand what would make her mother have such a reaction. Tom Riddle was just a name. "He is the Dark Lord. He can't be."

Arcturus looked like he had seized on something as he turned on her mother. "Why?" he demanded swiftly.

She did not respond straight away. She started walking again slowly placing the tray on the spindly table in the middle of the room. "I knew him when we were at school." Her voice was still small, but her icy was slowly slipping back into place. "He was in the year above me. He was close with Nicholas and- he- he stayed at the Manor during the summer for a few years."

Arcturus and Pollux quickly shared a look. "If a Tom Riddle was close to Nicholas it fits."

"They were in the same group as Leonard Mulciber, Theodore Nott and Rufus Lestrange." Aunt Walburga shot in for the first time. "They were all granted positions in the Ministry when the Dark Lord seized power."

Arcturus seemed convinced for the first time. He nodded swiftly and stood taller. "Then it is clear. The Dark Lord is only a half blood. We cannot support a situation in which we a led by the son of a muggle. Regardless of who he is and what he has done."

The declaration from her great uncle terrified her. She did not want to know what would happen and what the Dark Lord would do to a family who turned against the Dark Lord.

* * *

No matter how often Narcissa saw Lucius or how sure she was or how much he loved her, Narcissa would always dress her best for him. She was always someone aware of perfection and determined that Lucius would always have what he desired. She knew what he wanted in a wife and she could not help but think the more her saw her as a perfect wife the sooner he would ask the question she longed to hear escape his lips.

It was the same today just like another day as she paused in the Malfoy Manor Entrance Hall, her eyes appraising the building with nothing but positive conclusions as she smiled politely at Abraxas Malfoy.

Abraxas was the type of man you could instinctively surmise his personality. Slightly short, but making up for it with his steely grey eyes that demanded attention, his ruler cut white blonde moustache, his silk robes and powerful personality, Narcissa always compared father to son. She could see things in him she longed to see in Lucius and traits she was not so sure about. Regardless, whenever she encountered him, she was always on her best behaviour conscious that she wanted him to present a glowing report to Lucius.

"Show, Miss Black to Lucius' study and ensure she has anything she requires," Abraxas murmured his steel eyes focused on the small pathetic house elf before he looked up at Narcissa and gave her a curt nod. "He will be waiting. Have a pleasant day."

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," she replied smoothly ensuring she was professional and polite. "I hope you do too."

His eyes traced over her one last time before he moved in the other direction. Narcissa did not think much about his limited conversation. She knew from Lucius' descriptions that his father was the type who said little. If you were not criticised, it could be assumed his assessment was positive.

Content with that knowledge, she followed the creature through the extravagant halls of Malfoy Manor her heels clicking along the floorboards until she was led into Lucius' study.

"Hello? Lucius?" she murmured in a quiet greeting, opening the door slightly despite the fact the elf had already knocked. "Do you mind if I come in?"

She was welcomed in only the barest second of a pause by the composed and crisp voice she craved hearing. "Narcissa? Of course, come in."

Pushing open the door, her face automatically lightened as it always did at the sight of Lucius. Only he could make her have such an open emotional display as he approached him. He was sitting behind his chair, but he quickly stood as she approached. She caught the smallest curve upwards in his lips as he bent over and presented her with a small lingering kiss on her cheek. Her body warmed pleasantly as she took advantage of the privacy and reached for his hand.

"I hope I am not interrupting. I just-" she paused quite an uncharacteristic move from Narcissa as she looked up at him unsure through her thick and perfectly maintained lashes. "There are some things that are bothering. I know you are the only one who I can talk to. It is just so...worrying."

He did not dismiss her worrying nor did he send her aware like he might do others. He only slid his hand through hers. While he did not show any more emotion she knew it meant something as he pulled her into the lounge chair. "Then talk. I would not deny you the opportunity."

Barely resisting sighing she forced herself to look at him and while only tightening her grip on his hand. "It is just with what is occurring currently. You know I would never actively involve myself with politics, but..." she trailed off waiting for a negative comment but none came so she continued. "In regards to the rumours about the Dark Lord, my family seems to be turning against him. I don't know how I feel about the information, but I fear the consequences. The terrible consequences. I have heard hints from you and Bella enough to know what could occur..."

Lucius was quiet. He broke eye contact with her as he slowly trailed his thumb across the back of her hand. "It is... difficult. I can concede the situation is most certainly that, but such extreme courses of action are not wise."

Narcissa swallowed down a lump in her throat and tried not to display the panic in her eyes. "Then it is dangerous. The Dark Lord could even kill purebloods who are not blood traitors if he thought they betrayed him."

"He could, though the Dark Lord is reasonable. He would not spill pure blood without reason nor would he isolate the Blacks without justification. Your sister is heavily favoured by the Dark Lord. I can't imagine he would kill her family without just cause."

She had heard it before. She had heard praise about her sister high position in the Death Eaters, but, until now, she had never thought it was a positive. "But he could." The slightest amount of desperation left her voice. She scolded herself for the display, but as Lucius turned back to her he only held her hand tighter.

"He could, but your family is wise. They won't do anything unless it is absolutely certain it is not dangerous. It will be fine."

Lucius did not offer any false promises, but even the smallest assurance made her feel slightly better as she rested her head on his shoulder. However, the nagging feeling remained. She had not even opened up and told Lucius about her true fear. Even to Lucius she could not criticise her sister. The truth was she did not only fear the Dark Lord's reaction to her family's disloyalty.

She feared Bella's.

* * *

It was rare that Voldemort ever acknowledge a fault or flaw in his actions or disposition, but there were odd occasions when he did. He always ensured he was composed so his weaknesses and true thoughts were hidden. While he would not deny the intensity of his anger after _that _article was justified, he was aware that it was not advantageous.

It was dangerous.

He had not forgotten who had dared publish the article. It was constantly at the forefront of his mind, but it could not be said that he was not patient. He would wait for the perfect moment to extract vengeance. That was not now. It was not now when any act of violence would only suggest that there was truth in the article.

It could never be allowed to happen. He knew the shivers in his support since it had been published. He was well aware of the ramifications, but he would stop them. He would ensure no one would dare betray him and that his support would remain.

No matter what he would hold the Ministry.

He knew that. He was confident of that and it was easy to think that way arranged at the head of a hard wooden table with ornate engravings of famous wizards and witches down its thick legs. Assembled along it were the collection of his cabinet; those who had been members of the Ministry before and had retained their position and those Death Eaters who had been rewarded for their loyalty.

Of course, there were issues. Presenting a veneer that he did not have complete control was necessary. He loathed suggesting such a thing, but he was also aware it was required and not permanent. In a few years when allegiances were secure he could ignore them all, although now, he needed to pretend like they were useful and had a minor ability to have their say.

"The meeting is over," he announced his voice cold and clipped as Antonin bowed his head and finished his report on the structure of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement . The tension from the previous reaction and his well known fury was in the room and, since it was the first meeting since he had tortured of a number of staff members, he was someone most were eager to avoid. "If there are no concerns you may leave."

It was the comment he loathed adding, but so far no one had dared replying. It pleased him enough to continue saying as the table rose and started gathering papers. He remained seated his eyes wandering over the officials noting the mannerisms and those who wanted to avoid looking at him. Of course many should fear him, but too much desire to run from him could indicate disloyalty and that could never be excusable.

Perhaps it was his and other unexpected answer to such a question that caused them all to take so long to notice a figure half way up the table standing. "Wait," he exclaimed his voice slightly too high pitch as the table froze and turned to him. Voldemort noticed the man beside him was tugging his arm to get him to sit down, but Voldemort ignored him and focused on Gabriel Smith. He was a pureblood who had risen to the Department of Magical Games and Sport prior to his takeover and had remained in that position for his neutral, but pro purity values, despite never having taken the mark. "I- I want to say something. To ask something. I know others have remained quietly, but I have to ask. We all need to know."

Voldemort restrained himself from letting his icy facade melt from the raw fury. His insides clenched at the possibility of what was going to leave Smith's mouth. "Then by all means," he murmured his voice so frosty it was clear the man should have been silent. "Speak."

Smith must have missed the hidden message in his tone or perhaps he was too eager to speak either way he straightened his back up and continued. "The article in the Prophet. We all need to know, is it true? We cannot be run by a man with a muggle father."

A vein in his temple throbbed as he stood. He could hear a feminine shriek of outrage near the table and he did not need to lift his eyes that flared scarlet to know who it was. Slowly his hands descended into the fabric of his robes and returned with, not his wand, but a short silver knife. Smith's eyes caught the metal and Voldemort could not help but smirk at the look of horror on his face.

However, Voldemort did not direct the weapon to Smith. He only shrugged back the sleeve on his left wrist and raised the blade. Despite the unappealing task ahead he did not flinch as he sliced the blade against his wrist. He bit back any reaction to the stinging pain as he raised the wound to the room showing how the scarlet drops slid over his pale skin.

"My blood is as pure as yours," he declared using the hush from his flare from dramatic to slide from behind the table. His eyes were focused on Smith and his smirk only grew more predatory as he rounded on him. The man was rooted to the spot and as Voldemort moved behind him, his arm only rose slightly in a pathetic flinch. "Look. I'll show you."

Moving his left wrist in front of Smith's face with his right he struck. With one quick movement he sliced directly along Smith's windpipe. Blood sprayed from the offending artery over the table, paperwork and Voldemort's wounded arm. The entire time he did not flinch. He only watched coolly as Smith collapsed to the table.

The room was hushed. No one even whimpered or let out any objections. It was wise. His heart was filled with righteous fury that he would have cut down anyone who objected. They did not understand. A muggle father may have helped conceive him, but he was pure. He had done so much that he was purer than anyone alive.

Glaring at the table he straightened. "Do not doubt me," he hissed with venom as he spun on his heels and left without concern for the dead Smith or his cabinet.


	11. Sibling Love

**A/N:** So I lied... Bellamort next chapter! Somehow some of these scenes just blossomed from nothing and grew as I typed. It also features two knew povs since somehow I can't stop writing from other perspectives. We are also getting into the middle of the plot and soon you will all start seeing the light on the tunnel and where this is progressing.

)o(

Despite the fact the weeks had slid away since the first publication of the infamous article, the intrigue and unsure atmosphere had not disappeared. It had merely slipped into the background. Most were unwilling to openly express their opinions and uncertainties. Rumours about the death of Gabriel Smith had spread like wildfire brought on by only slight hints and innuendos in the Prophet. Pollux was well aware of this fact.

It was his goal.

The Blacks had marked their position and they were unwilling to rest on their laurels. It was why he and Arcturus resided where they were. The unwanted muggle London skyline shone out from behind the silk and silver lined curtains which framed Pollux's figure as he sat opposite Arcturus in identical leather armchairs.

Pollux was unsure what had motivated Arcturus to act. Perhaps it was a long consideration on why Tom Riddle was obviously the Dark Lord or, perhaps, it was the death of a pureblood by the hands of the Dark Lord which had motivated the man. Either way Pollux would not object to the backing. He was not foolish enough to do something by himself, but, with the assistance of the official Head of the Black family, action could be taken.

However, it must never be forgotten that, for the past hundred years, no Black had been sorted into any house other than Slytherin. Slyness and cunning ran in their veins and, despite how outrageous it was that they were expected to bow before a man whose father was a muggle, direct action was folly. Despite their blood he did not trust the half blood Lord to not destroy them. No, it would take actions to ensure the Blacks could assist, but not in a way that could be traced back to them.

Once again an alliance with the devil was necessary.

"Do not worry about tea, Irma," Arcturus demanded from where he reclined on the lounge as if it was his own house and he was talking to his own wife. It was difficult to not rise to the bate, but, after years of always being known as the lesser Black, it was simple to just sit stony faced and remain silent. "It will not be required. This will just be business."

"I do find business is more pleasant when accompanied by some tea, especially with a slice of lemon on the side." Their 'guest' commented idly in a way Pollux thought as foolish as he adjusted his glasses to glare at Dumbledore.

It was disgusting to have the old fool in this house. His home would never have been the place with the muggle loving nut who insisted on meddling in matters that did not concern him, but this time his interference was crucial. Both Pollux and Arcturus knew that Dumbledore could never sit by and allow the Dark Lord to rule. He would have to oppose him. He would try and pull him from his position in the Ministry and that was something they both wanted to see.

By supporting Dumbledore they could assist him in taking down the Dark Lord and then seize on the power vacuum to put a true pureblood as minister. It was the wisest and most useful course of action.

"But not quicker," Arcturus snapped not at all amused by the comment, "which is what is required. This will not be pleasant, but it is necessary. I have no wish to align with mudbloods and blood traitors, yet I equally have no wish to continue to see a half blood liar rule as Minister."

Pollux observed the twinkling in Dumbledore's eye and his merriment disappeared. Pollux waited for Dumbledore to be foolish enough to comment about Arcturus' words, but, for the first time, the old man displayed some intelligence. Obviously he must have known what was coming.

"And I would prefer assistance from those who are not so cruel to my associates but that would be a pointless thing to expect." Dumbledore's eyes hardened over Arcturus' though they did not flinch or back down. "For now I would be content with an agreement to join together to remove the Dark Lord from his post as Minister."

Arcturus tutted angrily. "Obviously we have agreed on that or I would not have invited you here. Obviously you have the numbers to form a rebellion. Once you have, the Blacks and our extensive relatives and contacts will offer their support."

"It is not so simple. Any such effort would be cut down in minutes."

Arcturus laughed quietly like a serpent's hiss. "I thought the great Albus Dumbledore was meant to be brave."

Dumbledore did not respond to the bait. "We will act, but only at the correct time. You say you have contacts. That is what I require. Disrupt the Ministry. Spread dissatisfaction. Ensure that, when the rebellion begins, the numbers will not rally to the Dark Lord and he can be pulled from his position of power." Dumbledore paused almost hesitating as he turned to Pollux for the first time. "Pollux your granddaughter Bellatrix is Head of the Aurors. Her assistance could be vital to this effort."

Arcturus turned from Dumbledore to Pollux. His eyes darkened even further. Pollux's feelings were identical. Bellatrix was a Black and should be expected to be loyal to the family. It was not so simple. For all of her reactions and comments over the years, Pollux knew she could not be trusted. Her allegiance was to the half blood not to her family.

"She cannot be trusted," Pollux replied smoothly and softly. "She will not be involved in any of our attempts. Her loyalty is to the Dark Lord."

It was strange. Dumbledore looked almost sad like he was involved or he knew something he should not have known. However, it was gone just as swiftly as Arcturus spoke up again.

"Do not worry about her. Now the details."

Dumbledore nodded and Pollux watched on adding details every now and again as their plans were created. As long as the Dark Lord did not discover anything and did not halt their attempts, he was confident that the Ministry could be destabilised and the Dark Lord defeated.

)o(

Druella did not sign. Her mother and Aunt Mariah after the family had moved into her home when she was twelve had drilled into her that such actions were unbecoming of a girl and proper lady. Thirty four years on, somehow those lessons still stuck even as she poured out tea for her own brother.

"Thank you," Nicholas said politely as he smiled up at her as he lifted the cup to his lips. "Wonderful as ever."

A smile that was similar, but substantially smaller slid over her pale and pristine face as she lifted her own cup in the same way as her brother. "Thank you," she replied politely, but she did not say anything else.

She wished she could be more pleasant and brighter which she normally was in the presence of her brother, though, today he had zapped any hope of a good mood. He reminded her of that dreaded conversation.

Tom Riddle was the Dark Lord.

It was not even motivated by worry that the Dark Lord could hurt her family if they rebelled, but who he was. She remembered Tom Riddle. She remembered him as the prefect and model student who everyone predicted would rise to become Minister of Magic which he somehow had. She remembered him as her brother's friend who visited during the summer rather than return to a muggle orphanage. She remembered him as the handsome young boy who made her blush like every lady he encountered.

Looking over her tea, she was confident she had held together her emotions because not even Cygnus had noticed anything amiss. Unfortunately her brother seemed to have a greater ability to ascertain her emotions.

"What is troubling you, Dru?" he said carefully as he placed his cup back on the coaster. His eyes that were as blue as hers stared straight into her. It was hard to look away. "I know something is wrong. Your girls?"

It was a good guess. Her three daughters had been a constant source of worry over the years. Other than her perfect angel, Cissy, the other two could not be as fortunate. Bella was the opposite in everything that she wished for in a daughter and her working was only one in a list of many issues. Her only saving grace was a relationship with Rodolphus Lestrange which was due to advance to a marriage at any moment.

Then, there was Andromeda. The daughter who she thought was almost as perfect as Narcissa. The girl who she had not seen in two years. The girl who she was genuinely grateful was back at home but she could not show it. The girl who refused to say a word and with whom Druella refused to lower herself to chase after if she insisted on being such a brat.

"No," she whispered keeping her voice level. "It is not my daughters."

Nicholas refused to stop. Leaning over he reached for her spare hand, lightly squeezing the gloved surface. He did not break eye contact and she found herself losing her battle to remain silent and composed.

"Then tell me. I'm your brother, Dru. I know you always try to keep everything bottled up, but not between the two of us. It was the same when we were children and mourned papa's passing. It is the same now. You can trust me."

He was right. The smallest of sighs escaped her painted lips as she lowered her tea cup onto the table and broke eye contact with her brother.

"It is not so simple. I do not even know why it is bothering me. It was so long ago and I have not thought about it in so long, him in so long, but somehow I- I am just unsure. I feel foolish."

Nicholas squeezed her hand harder and she had to look up at him. "You are not foolish. Now tell me what it is."

She let out one long shaky breath. "It is about the Dark Lord. It is about Tom Riddle. They are the same person."

Nicholas blinked. She saw the faintest crease in the corner of his eyes like he was angry, but it quickly disappeared. "Yes... I know, but it does not escape he is a great man. He was a great man when he went by that man and he is a great man now. I know what others are saying about him, but they are wrong. He is the right man to lead us, Dru."

"I know," she whispered agreeing with him despite the views of the Blacks. "It is not even that. I just can't stop thinking about him when I- when we." She blushed slightly trying to force out the words. "You remember that summer of my Fifth Year. You remember that year. I- Tom was special. I knew he was only an orphan and I deserved someone greater, but I was still with him. He kissed me. He kissed me many times. I think I even loved him. I still don't know now how I came to my senses."

Her cheeks were completely scarlet as she forced down the embarrassing memories. Rosiers were meant for proper pureblood men- not a boy from a muggle orphanage. He had told them all he was a pureblood and his stories has been so well constructed and he was so intelligent and perfect that she had believed him, yet still there was a stigma. It was the stigma that had made her end any sort of relationship with him. She had then turned to Cygnus after a marriage had started to be planned and she had tried not to think about Tom.

Now, somehow Tom was back in her life and he had been in her life for a long time.

She had thought that Nicholas would cringe away from her, but he only leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "It is alright. It all worked out in the end. You do not need to think about the Dark Lord that way. You were so young. The only thing that matters is that you know Tom Riddle and the Dark Lord are great people."

She tried to nod as she squeezed her hand tighter rather than show any more sadness on her face. "I know, but no one understands. I don't think Cygnus understands. I definitely know Pollux, Arcturus and the other Blacks do not understand."

"Really?" she missed how eager Nicholas sounded as he continued to speak. "Why do you know that?"

She was not meant to say this to others, but Nicholas was her brother. He would understand. Checking no one was at the door she lowered her voice and leaned in close. "They don't trust the Dark Lord. I think they are trying to destabilise the Ministry. Cygnus mentioned that they talked to Dumbledore the other day."

She defiantly noticed the snarl on Nicholas' face. She did not blame him. Dumbledore made her feel ill. "Dumbledore? That is...peculiar."

"I know. But they will come to their senses eventually. I'm sure they are just thinking of their options."

Nicholas nodded smiling mechanically. "Of course. I'm sure that is exactly what they are doing."

)o(

The wind had picked up as Nicholas stepped out of the doors of his sister's home, his stomach filled with the meal his sister had insisted he stay for and his heart being pulled in other direction.

He had promised his sister that she would have his confidence. Since they were young they had shared their secrets with one another in the faith that they would never divulge the truth. However, now it was more problematic. His sister had never told him information that was so vital to the Dark Lord.

Nicholas had always known the truth. The real truth. Tom had told him the truth about his birth. Not the dribble that the Prophet was divulging, but what Tom had slowly learned. He was a pureblood. His parents had been witches and wizards. His mother had disgraced the family, but not with a muggle. No she had been married and had an affair. After which her husband had banished her from the marital home. She had been pregnant and alone on the streets. She had nowhere to go and had gone to a muggle orphanage where she had given birth. Tom had been raised by muggles without the privilege of a pureblood name since the matrons had decided that, because of his mysterious origins, the name Riddle suited.

His loyalty was to the Dark Lord as it was to Riddle when he was younger. The Dark Lord deserved his position as Minister and, despite some hiccups in the recent months, he knew the Dark Lord would rule and bring purebloods to their deserved positions of power. However, he needed time. He needed the opportunity to continue to rule.

He needed Nicholas' information.

It was inevitable. Druella would understand. He was only betraying her confidence for the right reasons. She would want the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle to triumph.

Confidence that he was in the right, he spun on his heel and apparated to the Dark Lord's side hoping that this bad news did not result in another Cruciatus Curse,

)o(

**A/N:** And the sibling love is between Nicholas and Druella not the Black sisters since I like to trick everyone. As some back story, Nicholas and Druella's father died when their home was destroyed during the Blitz and after they moved with their Aunt Mariah. The Tom/Druella plotline is just a little bit of my head canon and, if you are interested in that story, I have written a one shot a while ago- Handsome Friend.


	12. Traitors

A/N: Here is the bellamort scene as requested. Please be aware of the waiting and also remember that Bella is not a reliable narrator. Her opinion of LV is heavily bias and she is not aware that half the time he is manipulating her. As well I made a slight error with Arcturus which I corrected in previous chapters. He is not the sisters' grandfather but their cousin twice removed.

)o(

She clung to him, her nails racked through his hair as she pulled him closer. Even she could admit she was finding difficult to find ways to insult or fault Rodolphus with his lips were positioned between her legs. The way his stubble scratched against her skin excited her like nothing else and his tongue circling her clit had her howling low in the back of her throat.

It was a strange moment when she did not think about the Dark Lord, but she was not. Unlike other times when she and Rodolphus were intimate, she could not fantasise and place the Dark Lord in this position as she would never imagine the Dark Lord serving her.

Fire flared through her body. Heat seeped from a whole other location and a gasp escaped her throat caused by something other than Rodolphus' lips.

Rodolphus continued unaware what had caused her reaction. It was not to say Rodolphus was not pleasing, but the burn of her mark engulfed all of her senses as she shoved him away. Her body still screamed for him and release, though the merest thought of seeing the Dark Lord surged through her body and overshadowed her petty urges.

"Be- what?" he gasped as he fell back on his arms and looked up at her. "What's wrong?"

She was already off the bed trying to gather her clothes and throwing them on as quickly as she could. The feeling of her mark was painful, but it was still pleasant because of what it represented; the Dark Lord wanted her.

"My mark," she said hurriedly as she tugged her dress over her head and turned to face him barely suppressing the smile that was larger than when Rodolphus was pleasuring her. "The Dark Lord is summoning me."

"Oh," He did not even try to hide his disappointment. He only straightened himself and continued to watch her, his arousal not diminishing. "Come back when you can."

She did not even bother replying. She only gave a quick glance in the mirror to check her appearance was acceptable, before she dashed from the room.

Her heart was pounding as she moved. She did not know why he was summoning, but the slight fact that he desired her presence from any reason could only be a positive. She longed to see him, even if it was if she was only given a simple order. Of course she wanted more. Her body was tingling at the thought of his hands on her and it had been so long since she had been in his presence. She wanted to please him and she wanted him inside of her. It did not matter that she had the guaranteed opportunity to fuck Rodolphus, but he just could not compare.

It was hard for those thoughts to not sodden her already damp underwear as she apparated relying on the signal of her mark. The Dark Lord's house appeared in front of her vision and her mood could not help but spike and her pace increase dramatically.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she kept walking the pulse of her mark growing stronger and leading her to the door of the downstairs sitting room. Despite having been summoned she automatically raised her fist and rapped on the surface.

"Enter," The crisp voice of the Dark Lord said so swiftly that it almost made her jump for joy as she stepped inside.

The Dark Lord was waiting by the hearth. He stood to his full impressive height his body twisting towards her as she collapsed automatically onto her knees before him. "My Lord," she murmured her voice filled with loyalty and obsession. "You summoned me."

He ignored her first comment his bloodied eyes staring down at her darkly with something akin to venom. "I have received news which is most disappointing." Involuntarily she shivered, her mouth dry. She immediately felt nervous imagining she had done something, but she could not think of anything. She could not bear the thought that she had failed the Dark Lord once again. "There are traitors in our midst."

For one terrifying moment, despite her intense loyalty, she feared he meant her, but he had said 'our'. It seemed like he knew who was being disloyal. She suspected it was someone at the Ministry or a Death Eater. Anger sparked inside her like waves. How could anyone dare betray the Dark Lord?

"Who?" she hissed. In her rage she forgot that her question sounded too much like an order. "Who has dared turn traitor? Please tell me, my Lord. I will kill them, my Lord. I swear it!"

The corners of the Dark Lord's lips twisted upwards. She could not understand why, though she would never question him as waited with baited breath. "Not just one traitor, Bella. Many." She shivered. Her hands twitched around her wand waiting until she could be told to attack the traitors. She suspected that was why she was here. It flattered her to think that she was the Dark Lord's first choice in killing traitors. "They are plotting against us. They tried to tear down the Ministry. They are trying to spread rebellion. They are even working with Dumbledore."

She hissed like an angry cat. "Please, my Lord," she begged in something like a scream. "Please tell me who they are! I will punish them for you. I will torture them. I will kill them!"

"Will you?"

"Yes!"

"No matter who they are?"

She did not understand why he was speaking like this. Did he not understand she would do anything for him? "Of course, Master. Anyone."

His hands slipped down to her chin. She leaned against him calming even with the terrible news that bubbled below the surface. "What about your family? Because it is the Blacks that have betrayed me. Sections of the family have turned against me. Your own grandfather Pollux and your great distant cousin Arcturus approached Dumbledore. They have aligned themselves with a blood traitor."

She froze. In his hands she could not do anything, but stare up at him blankly trying to conceive what he said. He could not be wrong. He would not lie to her, but it was absurd. How would the Blacks betray the Dark Lord? They were purebloods. They had all the right ideas. They wanted the Dark Lord to succeed and for purebloods to have control.

She was one of them.

She could not even answer or say anything. She only stared up at him waiting for him to speak.

"Do you not have an answer?" he questioned his eyebrow lifting slightly. "Are you not willing to kill the traitors now that you know they are your relatives?"

It was like staring up at the serpent that was about to strike. She knew what answer was expected of her. She knew what her loyalty entailed. She wanted to say, without a question of a doubt, that she would put her loyalty to her Lord up and above anything else.

But, they were her family.

The Blacks were purebloods. They were not blood traitors. They respected the old traditions and Bella fought to ensure they were victorious. They had taught her the right way to behave and now she had been told it was all false. Her family was betraying the Dark Lord, but they were still blood.

She looked vulnerable. Her hands were shaking slightly and her eyes wide as she looked up at her Lord. Those bloodied eyes urged her on and urged her to repeat her words that she wanted to punish the traitors. However, her mouth was still too dry to speak.

As the silence stretched out, terror started to mount in the pit of her stomach at what her Lord would do to her because of her inability to provide the answer he needed. Despite that, the hand that cupped her jaw adjusted its grip; not tighter, but merely to lightly caress her cheek.

"I understand, my Bella," he said his voice oddly soft. She should have noticed something was amiss but his light caresses and, the merest fact that it was her Lord, made it impossible to question his motives and how they were likely insincere. "They are your family. They should have your loyalty, but I have your loyalty too. Correct?"

She nodded eagerly her heart racing as his finger lightly brushed her lips. "Ye- yes, Master. Of course, but I-"

"Now it may be difficult to choose," he interrupted swiftly as if she had never opened her mouth, "but they have forced you to choose. They have taken their stance against me and you cannot remain in the middle. I know you will make the correct decision."

The tightness in her stomach remained, though it was all forgotten when his lips suddenly crashed against hers. The smallest whimper left her throat as her hands flung to the back of his neck pulling him closer and devouring his lips.

She expected to be punished for her demanding and deeming actions, but none came. His tongue only forced its way into her mouth and she was pushed onto the lounge. She did not feel the material scratch her back and arms. She only concentrated on his fingers skilfully unbuttoning her robes and slipping inside.

"My Lord..." she moaned as his hands trailed down her stomach and brushed against the damp fabric of her underwear. She arched against his hand mentally urging him to continue his exploration, but fully expecting he would continue play with and torture her first.

To her surprise he did not. His fingers slipped under the waist band encountering her wet and willing flesh. Her moans grew louder and more wordless as he circled her clit. Her brain could not concentrate on anything else, but the pleasure and how wonderful he was. It was not long before she was practically dripping, her insides burning and her body pleading for release. She was so very close from Rodolphus' previous efforts and the very fact that it was him after so long without him. It made it so very difficult not to whine as he lifted his hands from her.

She had to follow them. He moved to his belt and she quickly assisted, freeing his hardening member and taking it into her own hands. Unlike her he did not moan as she massaged the base and pumped her hand up and down, but she heard his breathing increase and she felt him harden.

"Please," she whimpered all the while her own need pronounced and all consuming. "I need you inside of me. Please!"

His lips curled upwards into a smirk, but she could not care less what he looked like as he slapped off her hand and pushed himself inside of her. There was no gradual moment or time to be slow. It was quick and brutal from the outset. However, her body was craving him so she did not complain. It only caused her moans to restart as she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer.

His face was knotted into hard lines stressed and attempting to hide his feelings. She suspected he might not last long from his heavy breathing in her ear, but it did not matter. He was hitting that perfect spot inside of her and with every stroke of his cock against it her muscles tightened until she could not take it any longer. Light burst before her eyes and her back arched sporadically as she writhed under him. All she could think about was him as she screamed and held him tighter. She was only vaguely aware of him breaking inside of her as she collapsed onto the lounge.

She tried to control her breathing, but it was impossible. It was shallow and disjointed as she ran her hands up and down his still clothed back. He did not pull away which was strange in itself and their previous conversation flowed back to her.

"My Lord," she murmured softly watching as his eyes focused on her. Somehow seeing him so close and the rush of having him inside her had erased her moment of doubt and uncertainty. "Of course you have my loyalty. I will do whatever you ask. Regardless of who they are, I will punish those traitors for you."

She did not detect the smugness of his smile, she only noticed how his lips curved upwards. "And you will." He stood ad she immediately felt dejected at the loss of his body close to hers as he adjusted his robes, but it all fell away when he offered her a hand. She took it swiftly her much smaller fingers closing around his as she stood still with her robes still undone and her underwear nowhere in sight. "Your assistance will be vital. I have a particularly important role for you."

"Of course, Master." She nodded eagerly waiting for him to speak.

"I need you to kill Pollux and Arcturus Black."

)o(

Since the Dark Lord had presented her orders they had not left her mind. It was daunting to think she would have to kill the patriarchs of the Blacks, but her steely determination to do whatever her Lord asked had continued to surge through her mind.

She was always waiting patiently for the first opportunity.

It came on Narcissa's 21st birthday. Their ballroom was stocked to capacity a hint that their home and fortune were not as large as they would have preferred. However, no one cared. Not when the band was playing and the champagne was flowing.

Casting a swift glance of Narcissa in her ivory gown and dancing close with Lucius, she moved back to examining her targets. It was rare that she would be in the same room with her distant cousin, Arcturus, and Grandfather Pollux and she had to take advantage of the opportunity.

She spied her grandfather talking in a corner with her father and then, her heart leapt, as she watched Arcturus leave the ballroom alone. Tipping her champagne back and taking it down her throat like it was a shot, she carelessly tossed it into the tray of a passing elf and walked swiftly to her grandfather.

"Hello Grandfather," she greeted her voice slightly too cheery as both men stopped their conversation to look at her. Both of their spectacle covered eyes were dark and narrowed, but she did not care. "Father."

"Bellatrix," her father hissed almost in warning like she was still a little girl. "What do you want? Your grandfather and I were talking."

Her father was one of the few people Bellatrix respected and cared about, but hearing him dismiss her so harshly always irritated her. "Well, I need to talk to you, Grandfather," she declared not even sparing her father a glance. "It will not take long. If you could just step outside for a moment."

He did not look impressed. She watched the two men share a glance, but her grandfather regrettably stepped forward. "If you insist."

She smiled back politely trying to suppress her true joy. "Thank you."

Checking her grandfather was behind her, she crossed the ballroom, following the same path Arcturus had taken as she stepped outside. The air was crisp and the wind only light as she spotted the tall imposing figure of her cousin twice removed standing under the balcony his eyes staring into the gloom. She moved straight for him only stopping a few feet away as he turned around.

"What do you want Pollux? Bellatrix?" His tone was harsh like he hated being interrupted. Her lips could not help but smirk as her hands itched to go for her wand.

"I am just following Bellatrix," Pollux replied from a distance away as he continued to walk and try to catch up with them. "I do not know why I am here."

"Bellatrix." Arcturus' voice was almost a growl, but she almost giggled in delight.

"Well...," she replied her hand sliding up her thigh from behind, pulling up some of her tight dress in the process. It was difficult to do it subtly, but, as her hand curled around the handle of her wand she had holstered there, it did not matter. "I needed to discuss something with you. Both of you."

"Yes," Orion demanded and this time her grin did expand over her face as she watched her grandfather flick his gaze from her to Arcturus

She struck.

"Stupify!" she called directing her wand at Pollux. The man only had the chance to turn his head before the jet of light struck him in the back. He fell without even a gasp. "Accio wand!"

Her grandfather's wand flew into her hand and she had to laugh at the horror struck expression on Arcturus' face. "What are you doing?" he roared his face breaking composure and turning ugly. He pulled out his wand, but she did not mind. He was in his seventies. She was twenty three. It was not hard to determine who would win. "How dare you?"

"No! How dare you? Crucio!" Arcturus quickly blocked the torture curse she sent with her grandfather's wand. "You have betrayed the Dark Lord!"

Arcturus did not seem surprised. He only sent off a stunner that she easily deflected with a simple flick of the wand. "And you have betrayed the family. You have faith in a half blood over your own family. Blood-"

He did not get a chance to reply. She wanted to play with him, but she had such little time. "Avada Kedavra!"

The Killing Curse was unlockable and Arcturus was frozen by her use of the curse. His wand only raised a fraction of an inch before it struck him in the chest. He fell onto the soft grass the echo of his final curse on his lips .

She was shaking. Her hand unsteady from the adrenalin as she faced her grandfather. He was her flesh and blood. However, he had always been distance. He had pushed off all her attempts to earn his affection when she was a girl preferring to hide away in his study.

It was what she could focus on as he raised her wand and fired off a slicing curse. Unconscious he did not even whimper as the curse slit his robes and skin. However, the blood burst out from the artery. She knew from her lessons with her Lord he would not last long. Trying to keep to her plan, she kneeled beside him and placed his wand near his hand like he had dropped it.

She watched the blood transfixed. She mentally counted down the seconds until no healer could help. Lightly touching his chest, she let the warm blood coat her pale flesh as she raised her neck and screamed.

"Help!" she hollered trying to sound like the many victims whose lives she had ended. "Merlin, help him!"

As she predicted her screams were louder than the previous duel. They carried over to the ballroom and she heard the distinct sound of footsteps in the distance. She tried to crush her eyes together and cry, but no liquid left her eyes. Instead she placed a bloodied hand to her face and tried not to smile.

Her Lord's work was done.


	13. It Will Continue

**A/N: **I know the last few chapters have been similar, but it is all necessary to build towards the big plot which will start to become clearer next chapter.

For information on the last scene please see the note at the end.

)o(

Narcissa could not say she was close to her Grandfather Pollux or her distant uncle, but, as she stood in the sun sweating under her black robes, she blinked back tears. It had been her birthday. It was meant to have been a time to celebrate and rejoice. She and Lucius had been dancing so close and he had whispered such sweet words into her ear. She thought it might even be the night he finally proposed.

Then her sister had screamed and everything had gone down like a fat gargoyle. The discovery of Pollux and Arcturus' dead body had spread shock through the party. Bella had explained how she had seen them duelling from a distance and how Pollux had fallen to a curse. He had collapsed to the ground, but, before he had drifted into unconsciousness, he had thrown off a Killing Curse. Narcissa knew that there had always been tension between the two men as rival heads of different lines of the Blacks but, to imagine it would cause a fatal duel, seemed odd.

It terrified her. The Dark Lord might not have been involved in these two deaths, but she feared he might be responsible for more. Standing at the funeral of these two Blacks made her fear and realise that she might soon reside over the deaths of more of her family.

Lifting her eyes from the wheezy wizard, she glanced around at her family. Her mother and father were stoic; standing calm without a word suppressing the grief she knew they both felt. Then there was Bellatrix who stared at the coffins her lips twisting upwards; it seemed like she was smiling. Narcissa's gaze stopped and focused on her.

What was she doing? She supposed her sister had always been unusual, but she was probably laughing at something inappropriate.

Narcissa closed her eyes and turned back to front trying not to think about who would be next.

)o(

Her mood was no less uneasy and uncertain at the wake. Still sitting at the table with her cake, she picked idly at the cream prodding and turning it around her plate. She was not at all hungry, but it would seem rude to toss the plate away without trying to eat something. No matter what decorum was necessary. They all had to display the correct face to the public.

Unfortunately that message had not been drilled into the heads of every Black. She knew her sister lacked in many areas, but it was still difficult to not sigh as raised voices sounded to her right. Twisting in her seat, she leaned forward slightly to stare past Andromeda's silent figure to gaze at her father and sister.

"What is your problem?" Bellatrix hissed her eyes blazing as she focused on their father's frozen back. "Why do you insist on ignoring me?"

Their father's greying head froze. His figure did not so much as move for a fraction of a second as if he was stunned before his feet suddenly locked back into step like he had not heard anything at all.

Bellatrix growled like a wounded animal and continued to vent. "Father!"

Narcissa thought for one terrifying moment Bellatrix was going to storm after him, but she felt relief drift through her when Bella turned and tromped off in the other direction.

Cissy watched the entire scene. Her blue eyes were wide and confused. Even to his daughters, their father was always a quiet and unsociable person, but Bella had still always been his favourite. He had never said it aloud, though they all knew from a minor action or a gleam in his eye. Narcissa could not understand why that would cease now.

"He suspects her."

Narcissa's surprised expression grew more distinct at the sound of Andromeda. While her sister did not insist on staying in her room every waking moment of the day, she instead had become a mute; hardly opening her mouth unless she was directly addressed. It was strange to hear her speak without prompting, but Narcissa could not complain; not when she missed her sister and wanted answers.

"What do you mean?" Narcissa murmured keeping her place low as she urged her sister to keep speaking.

"He thinks she was involved in the death of grandfather and Arcturus." Andromeda did not smile. She did not even look interested as she continued to stare blankly across the room.

Cissy's feeling f fondness for her sister disappeared immediately. "Don't be ridiculous," she sneered pushing herself to her feet. "Bella would never do that."

Andromeda might have had a point. Narcissa might have considered it, but that was why she could not allow herself to listen to the accusations. She could not bear the thought that Bella was involved grandfather or Arcturus. She did not want to acknowledge the fact that her worst fear was becoming a high possibility.

Bella was killing their family.

)o(

His nose flared, his eyes narrowed and darkened as he scanned the prophet noting down the headline that had continued to persist and pain him. The deaths of Arcturus and Pollux Black would shut down an avenue of those who could rally around to destroy him, but it did not mean the uncertainty would end. Somehow, every day or two, something would cause the news to spark and light the headlines.

It was infuriating.

Tossing the paper back down on his desk with more force than was strictly necessary, he focused his anger on the other man. For his credit Rosier did not step back but he did shrink. Good, he should be afraid. The man had still not produced the results he expected.

"You have not stopped this Nicholas," he hissed the fury evident as he stood his movements deliberately slow and unnerving. "This farce continues when it should have ceased long ago. I am aware of the danger."

"Yes, my Lord." His voice was low that he kept what Voldemort assumed were shaking hands deliberately behind his back. "But things can be done and-"

"What?" Voldemort snapped immediately the faintest trace of red settling into his eyes. "If there were such courses of actions available I assume you would have suggested them."

Rosier's look was filled with insecurity and hesitancy, but he stood his ground and did not turn into a puddling mess; likely because he had known him since the age of eleven. In a strange way Voldemort did appreciate such behaviour. After all, Rosier did fear and respect his power and, an assistant who crumpled without giving advice, would be useless.

"Proof, Master," he replied meekly before hurriedly continuing. "The public needs something to make it clear these reports are false. I know. The faithful know, but they do not."

"Such as?"

Voldemort did not display his uncertainties or hesitations about the plan. It was logical that something was needed to convince the foolish masses, but it was problematic. Technically that filthy muggle was responsible for his conception. No one could understand that he had done away with that filth and reduced himself to a greater level of divinity. Nevertheless, he would listen to Rosier's suggestion. The man was away of the consequences of foolish or insulting ideas.

"Perhaps revealing your birth certificate or something that-"

Rosier never got the chance to finish. As soon as the words left his mouth, they shot through Voldemort. He had never seen the document of his own birth, but he assumed it existed; likely in the hands of some filthy muggles who did not understand its true significance. However, it could never be revealed. It would only state that filthy name.

Rosier might have known that he had been called Tom Riddle, but he could never express his true uncertainties. No one must know the truth and Rosier had believed his earlier story about why he had been raised in a muggle orphanage and had the name Riddle. No, it was best to use another form of attack when dismissing Rosier's suggestion.

Striding around his desk, his wand was in his hand in a moment directly into Rosier's neck. This time the man did flinch and pale. It was enough to make Voldemort smirk.

"Do you think I intend to share my private affairs with the likes of the foolish public?" His voice was low like a hiss as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "No, they deserve to know nothing."

Voldemort was more than a little surprised when Rosier did not shut his mouth straight away.

"But my Lord I-"

"No!" His voice was dangerously loud and lacked composure, but the roar of the outrageous accusations and filthy father drove him on. "It shall not be shown or hinted at. Not at all."

Rosier was wise enough to not argue. He likely knew he was dangerously close to suffering from the Cruciatus Curse.

"Yes my Lord." The fire within him cooled marginally as he turned his back on Rosier. It was a positive the man did know him. Emotion could be excusable. It was not advised, but excusable. He was about to sit down when he spoke again. "But, won't this continue?"

Slowly he spun on his heel; his face was blank, but his eye burned.

"No," he murmured smoothly. "No matter what, it will end. This Ministry will not fall."

)o(

**A/N: **While I do not desire to comment on politics, the suggestion from Rosier for LV to provide his birth certificate is inspired by the drama over President Obama and his birth certificate. Of course Obama had nothing to hide (unlike) LV so it is only something used as inspiration.


	14. The Inspiration

**A/N: **Now here we go! Now this is where there is a big hint about what is to come which will be explained next chapter. My only request when reading this chapter is this- keep in mind the past chapters. There is a reason for everything and people would only consider certain things if they are pushed. Please also have faith in my characterisation. As always I can promise there will be no outrageous OOC behaviour.

)o(

Narcissa was not accustomed to being jealous. It was not in her nature; mostly because she never had any real reason to have moments of envy towards another. She was confident that no one could compare to the gifts nature had bestowed upon her, but, as her eyes ghosted over the figure sitting at the top of the head table, she noted the heavy layers of foundation painted over her skin and the pearly white dress that did nothing to make anyone believe she was pure.

Everyone knew she was a loose woman, yet she was sitting with a smirk on her face beside her new husband as a married woman. She did not understand. Why would anyone marry a woman like her?

It was hard to not pout and air her dismay that Georgian Selwyn, now Mrs Nott, who she had shared a dormitory with at Hogwarts, was already married.

She hoped her opinion was not obvious. She knew she should not express such views, but still her eyes were narrowed as her gaze drifted over the lace ruffles of Georgiana's ruffles and the cake Theodore Nott was feeding to her with an attempt at cool indifference.

"You're glaring, darling?" Lucius voice whispered in her ear and she could not help but whip her gaze to him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment until they softened as she flushed a little.

"I'm not," she replied quickly eager. "I have no reason to be upset."

Lucius lips moved upwards at the most he would allow himself to do so in public. "No, you don't." His voice was cool like he was hiding something and she could not help but be intrigued; more so because she hoped he was hinting at something she longed to hear. "Dance with me?"

She had to smile as he lifted his hand to her and she took it. "Of course."

Walking gracefully beside him, she allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor as she tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Don't be unhappy," he whispered into her ear as they started swaying in time with the music. "I can't allow you to be unhappy."

Squeezing his shoulder gently, her smile only grew at his words. Tilting up on her tiptoes she drew her lips close to his ear. "How can I be when I'm in your arms?"

)o(

Weddings were not something that provided a large attraction to Rodolphus Lestrange. The occasions seemed to be filled with people throwing around their emotions and, more often than not, making a fool out of themselves. Certainly any occasion which could make old Theodore Nott grin like a buffoon because he had got his hands on a pretty young wife, could not be filled with positives.

However, he could not help but be smug as he swayed in the middle of the dance floor the most attractive woman in his arms. Logically he should have been more concerned with decorum, but he could not bring himself to complain about her tight scarlet dress that did little to hide her lavish curves and gave him a wonderful view down her dress from his slightly taller height. He could not even complain about how she danced so close to him she was pressing against him and rested her soft lips perilously close to his ear while they continued to gather looks from those around them.

"Look at those two," she murmured in his ear in her sultry voice as she tilted her head back to indicate a couple behind her. "Aren't they sickening?"'

Rodolphus followed the direction of her nod noting Lucius and Narcissa dancing close, but not at all at an inappropriate distance. However, he understood what Bella meant; they could not take their eyes off each other. From his angle, he could see the gleam in Narcissa's gaze and the smile that was painted on her lips.

It was strange. Rodolphus was sure he had never seen Bella look at him that way. He knew she did care, but showing that level of adoration was too foreign for her. In a strange way it was actually pleasing to see a couple that displayed genuine love for each other, but he could not deny there was a strange envy which he pushed away.

"Well, your sister is certainly different to you," he replied keeping his voice calm and not revealing too much of what he was really thinking.

She chuckled softly in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. "Does that mean you would prefer perfect innocent Cissy?"

"No," he replied swiftly his hand around her waist dipping lower. "I much prefer you."

She laughed again her eyes gleaming. "Of course just like a ty-"

She trailed off her eyes wide as she focused on something over his shoulder her cheeks turning pink.

"What is wrong?" he asked immediately pulling away from her body slightly to turn to the cause. He knew straight away.

The Dark Lord.

"I didn't think he would come," Bella murmured her voice breathy and the same gleam he saw in her sister's eyes flickered in hers. "He normally does not attend such events but..."

Rodolphus wished he could not see the truth in her eyes. He wished that he did not know the extent of her feelings. He had previously hoped that her adorations was merely based on worship and strictly contained to the feelings a master would feel for a servant, but now he knew that everything was much more substantial. His only feeling of hope was that he knew the feelings were not returned. Certainly the Dark Lord did not love anyone and he only used Bella as nothing more than a servant.

Still it did not stop the feeling of dread that seized in his heart as Bella pushed her hands off him. "I have to talk to him."

Without another word she stalked off and in the direction of the tall thin figure of the Dark Lord. He did not stop trying to stop her progress. It would be useful. He was just grateful that he had one part of her he just hoped that when they married, which he vowed would be soon, a greater regard for him would develop.

)o(

Her flushed naked skin rubbed against the cotton as she reluctantly pulled the last of the sheets away from her body and exposed herself to the crisp air. She would have rather stayed in bed for longer, especially when she could be close enough to the Dark Lord that it could almost be described as intimate, but she knew it was an impossible wish. She would never betray the Dark Lord's wishes even if was against what she desired.

Standing, her eyes drifted back to the Dark Lord's lean figure as he reclined back against the headboard his eyes following her movements. She hoped he was concentrating on her naked body, but, if he was, she assumed he would request her return to bed.

She allowed herself to linger her eyes on him but receiving an impatient stare in return she cast her glance around the room for her underwear that the Dark Lord had discarded earlier.

"I suppose I didn't think I would ever be at Georgiana Selwyn's wedding," she commented fishing for conversation as she located the lacy garment and leaned down to pick it up. "It is strange to observe others reaction."

"Such as?" His rely from behind her made her smile as she turned around to face him while she pulled her underwear back on.

"Since she is getting married everyone forgets she is such a slut." The word left her mouth without regrets. She was surprised to find the Dark Lord seemed interested his eye brows knitting together as if in thought. "Mother must feel the same way. She thinks if Andromeda marries a good pureblood everyone will forget she is a blood traitor and will think she is a good pureblood."

His eyes widened a rare expression of emotions as he froze. Her heart immediately dropped. What had she done?

"My Lord," she murmured softly steadily drawing closer to him. "Are you alright?"

With the trepidation that fell over her she waited expected to be cursed. His eyes turned to her but he did not speak. She opened her mouth to speak as she paused near the bed, but she did not have the chance to speak before the Dark Lord seized the back of her neck and kissed her passionately.

Her breath caught momentarily at the surprise of the action before she immediately reacted her lips following his lead and her hand tentatively trailing over his bare chest. The sparks that shot through her made her wish it could go on forever but, of course, it could not.

As the Dark Lord pulled away, she noticed the crinkle in the corner of his lips suggesting he was pleased about something. She did not understand why or what had caused his sudden good mood, but she would never complain.

"You can go now, Bella," he said softly his eyes still gleaming as he rested back on the bed with confidence.

"Yes, my Lord."

She still felt like she was missing something, but she knew she could never guess the Dark Lord's mood so she started to gather and dress. She left equally as quiet unaware that she had accidentally provided the Dark Lord with the solution to his biggest problem.


	15. The Unpleasant Alternative

**A/N: **Thank you all for the support last chapter. I'm glad for not being abused for the hint. I hope that pattern continues as the plot thickens.

)o(

Voldemort swept up and down his office. Without attempting to be silent, the shuffle of his robes swished around his legs and the heels of his dress shoes clanked against the floorboards. Some might have assumed he was furious, but he was not; the way his elegant hands were lax at his side rather than clenched in fists was a subtle hint.

His mind was dominated by thought; not all positive, but not all negative.

It was pleasing to have a viable solution to attempt to mask his half blood status, though it was not a solution he could express any joy in. Marriage had always been a ludicrous and disgusting concept. It implied that he was bonded to another and that he would share a life with them. It would produce connotations of foolish affection. He had never wanted a wife nor any sort of family. He was always content with himself.

However, he still had not automatically dismissed the notion of marriage. Despite marriage being an unappealing prospect, he could not deny that it was better than the alternative of losing his grasp on the Ministry. He desired there to be an alternate solution and, only if there was not, would he settle for marriage. At least he was certain he could manoeuvre a marriage to ensure that he could maintain his solitude and ensure that no ridiculous feelings of love would not feature or be relevant.

Pausing by the unlit hearth, his eyes lingered on the charcoal remains of a log before he turned swiftly like he was on a hinge to the other man in the room.

Nicholas had not moved. He stood a few strides from the doorway after Voldemort had ordered him in. He had remained silent and still while Voldemort had paced. The man was wise enough to know that he would talk when it was necessary.

"Why did you marry your wife?" Voldemort asked coolly like he was discussing some sort of creature. The question was sudden and unusual as he observed Nicholas' reaction.

It was predictable. Nicholas' attempt at feigning disinterest disappeared as he whipped his head in Voldemort's direction. "My Lord? I'm not sure I follow..."

"Answer the question," Voldemort snapped his tone hardening slightly, but only marginally so. After all, he did expect the reaction.

"It was my duty. I needed to marry and continue on the pureblood line," Nicholas remarked slightly reluctant, though honest which was what Voldemort desired. "And I did want a companion. I think before we even married I might have even loved Patricia."

There was a slight thinning of Voldemort's lips at the mention of love, but he mostly ignored it. He did not find it surprising that others were not as powerful as he to resist the call of that useless emotion. He knew Nicholas was eager to further question him, but he knew the man realised it was unwise.

Voldemort traced his eyes over Nicholas though he did not acknowledge his answer. He merely focused his considerable mind to ponder what matters needed to be addressed.

"And are you one who acknowledged the positives of matrimony? Was that what you told Theodore?"

"I did, my Lord." This time Nicholas did pause, but Voldemort knew he was still curious. "Theodore should have an heir after all and it will do him good to have a young wife around him. It is expected he would marry."

"And it would produce a positive image for Theodore and the new Mrs Nott?"

"I presume so, My Lord," Nicholas hesitated, his tongue lightly slipping out to brush his bottom lip as a nervous reflex. "Is there any particular information you require from me, my Lord? I would hate to think that I was not being useful."

It was a wise tactic from Nicholas and, for that, Voldemort was not upset. Without answering, he slowly drew back to his desk before he sat down and looked up at Nicholas through his long fingers.

"Simply this- to what extent do you believe marriage can assist in producing an image? You see Nicholas I have discovered a solution that you not yet posed. If I marry a proper pureblood woman, is it not likely to plug up the hole in my reputation and push away the disgusting rumours for good."

It was like he had proposed to Nicholas himself. The man froze, eyes wide and his tongue flicked out even more. His blinking was swift and it took a few moments of patient waiting for Voldemort to have a response.

"You want to be married?"

The good mood disappeared in a moment as Voldemort stood his palm slapping down on his desk. "I hardly want to, but I will if it is required. You have failed to deliver me a solution and this is my last alternative. I need a simple answer. Will it work?"

Nicholas jumped back no doubt after the surprise of his answer but he recovered producing a swifter answer than Voldemort would have expected. "Yes, my Lord I believe so if the correct women was chosen and-"

"I did not need your assistance in finding someone," Voldemort snapped his good mood evaporating with the information that an unappealing marriage may be his last option. "I want alternatives. If you cannot find me another solution by the end of the week I will have to rely on a marriage, but understand I will not be pleased." His eyes narrowed emphasising his point. "Now go."

Nicholas was quick to obey, bowing low before he scooted from the room.

Sinking back into his chair now that no one was around, his slowly rubbed his temples. Despite having provided Nicholas with an opportunity to discover other solutions, he did not expect any would exist. He would have to marry. However, even if he did, he vowed it would not change anything.

)o(

Bellatrix wondered why she was even here for this conversation. She was not sure what was surprising; being here in the first place or not having left.

It was strange that she had been able to stand her mother's dribble, even if it was for such a short time. After all, its topic was predictable and painful.

"I still can't believe Georgiana Selwyn is married," Narcissa murmured softly daintily sipping her tea her back straight and one leg resting gracefully over the other. "She was the last person I would ever imagine marrying."

"It is surprising..." her mother replied softly her pose mimicking her favourite daughter who she gifted with a small smile. Bellatrix could not help but roll her eyes; they were all trying to avoid saying the most obvious point that stared them all in the face. It was peculiar. She would have thought her prudish mother would enjoy criticising someone for being a slut. "But don't worry darling you will be married soon."

Bella could not help but snort over her tea at the smile that lit Narcissa's glowing face. Merlin how could she have a sister who could be so naive and fool of such romantic dribble?

"Obviously Lucius will propose soon," Bella replied with a drawl and a smirk. She watched her mother tense waiting for whatever she should say. She should be worried. It was strange with her new job she felt strangely more free and more prepared to unnerve and annoy her mother. "He will combust if you have him waiting another year for sex."

Both Druella and Narcissa flushed at her words narrowly causing Bella to avoid sniggering as her mother erupted. "Bellatrix!" she scolded like she was a five year old rather than a woman in her twenties. "Behave yourself. You are not a crude mudblood."

Bella did not provide an answer she only continued to smile like a cat who had got the cannery as Narcissa slowly began to recover herself.

"But what about you, Bella?" Cissy said her voice noticeably softer and her cheeks was still tinted pink. "Won't Rodolphus propose soon?"

Bella shrugged with disinterest. "Who knows?"

Honestly she did not know if he would. She was not even sure how she would feel. She would have been annoyed that he had not waited for her permission to ask, but, then again, she would welcome the freedom of marriage. She always planned to marry Rodolphus since he was what she wanted in a husband and it would be good to get out of this house and away from her mother. She supposed marriage to him would be tolerable.

"It has to be soon," Narcissa eagerly added. "You too are perfect for each other."

This time Bella had to laugh ignoring the raised eyebrows of her mother. "Either way we know who won't marry soon." Depositing her empty tea cup on the table, she rose her eyes glancing to the quiet figure of Andromeda in an armchair by the corner. "No one would ever want to marry a filthy blood traitor who had opened her legs for a mudblood."

Ignoring the response to her statement, she strode from the room.

Unlike her sisters, her mind was not focused on marriage.

)o(

Rodolphus was quiet with his head bowed as he stepped through the front doors of his home. He barely heard the doors close around him. He only tightened his hand around the object in his pocket and swallowed down a lump in his throat.

He did not understand why he was nervous. He would never prepare for a situation in which he did not have a very fair idea about what the result would be.

After courting for so long, it was logical that Bellatrix would say yes. He knew she had been averse to marrying at a young age and she had made it very plain she would reject any offer of marriage, but now they were twenty three and she was older.

He could hear Rabastan's voice chattering loudly to their sister in the sitting room, but he turned and headed up the staircase. His fingers were still caressing the diamond in his pocket as he focused on what he would do. He would sort this out straight away with stewing.

First he would have to invite Bella to dinner.


	16. A Golden Ring

**A/N: **Where the plot really thickens...

)o(

Stretching her arms above her head, her heels clicked loudly on the polished floorboards as she entered Lestrange Manor, her scarlet Auror robes flapping behind her as the double doors slid closed behind her.

Her eyes flicked over the Entrance Hall waiting for the appearance of a house elf to do its job and to direct her to Rodolphus, but none appeared. Instead she turned at the sound of shuffling footsteps as a pale and chestnut haired head appeared. Rabastan was breathing heavy and his small delicate hands were clutched tightly in a fist.

"Rodolphus was expecting you hours ago," Rabastan commented with a note of irritation, a scowl painted over his weak jaw. "He has been waiting."

Bellatrix was taken aback. Rabastan was normally on her side or too timid to offend her, but something seemed to be up his arse. She could not imagine why being late to only see Rodolphus even mattered.

"It's hardly your problem," she snapped back her eyes narrowing in warning. "I'm here now. Where is he?"

It looked like Rabastan was clenching his teeth down and fighting down a retort. Bella almost wanted to hear the amusing response, but it seemed the younger brother managed to control himself. "He's in his room."

Bella did not bother hearing the rest. If Rabastan was grumpy, so be it. Turning on her heel, she strode up the stairs and in the direction of Rodolphus' room.

Admittedly she was three hours late, but she did not care. Rodolphus had invited her out to dinner, though he should have known that it would not have intrigued her. He should have known by now that she did not need nor want romance. She had not intended to be late. She had got distracted by trying to draft her suggestions for hunting down the rest of those who opposed her Lord. After realising she was an hour late, she had not bothered to move and had merely finished what she had started. After all, her Lord was more than Rodolphus.

As she progressed down the halls and reached Rodolphus' door, she knew she would have no problem telling him that. If that bothered him, then she would simply remind him of where his priorities should reside.

Her dark eyes lingered over the door pausing in a brief consideration of knocking, but she quickly dismissed the idea and pushed it open without bothering.

His room was expected; all dark wood, all antique and everything neat. However, she was surprised to find Rodolphus on his bed in what looked like a pair of new and very expensive suit robes. There was something curled in his fist and he was glaring at the floor until she stepped inside.

"My you look grumpy today," she commented without a worry in the world as she slammed the door closed behind her. "As does your brother. He insisted on lecturing me about apparently being late. He sounded more like a brat than usual."

Just like his brother, Rodolphus stared back at her without any trace of affection, but his emotions were slightly better contained. "You are late."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and moved further into the room. "So I have been told, but I had work to do for the Dark Lord."

"I had dinner reservations."

She could not help but chuckle slightly at his low tone. He actually did seem upset. Merlin what was wrong with the Lestranges tonight? "It's only dinner. Why would you care?"

He did not answer. Slowly he rose, but, instead of advancing towards her, he turned his back and slowly walked in the direction of the window.

The feeling of not knowing something intensified. Growling under her breath, she stormed after him.

"Merlin what is your problem?" she growled, reaching for his muscular shoulder and tugging him around so he would face her. She noticed his large hand was still clenched around something and it quickly attracted her attention. "And what is that?"

Again there was no answer so she took matters into her own hands. Her hand went for his fist. She expected a fight, but instead, as her fingers touched his skin, his grip loosened and opened revealing a simple black box. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. It was almost like a jewellery box. Not waiting for permission, she slid it from his hand and opened it.

Gold and diamonds shone back at her. The gold band swirled and wrapped around itself until it met in the middle where three large diamonds were set.

It was simple to know what it was.

Lifting it from its box, she raised it to the light examining the gems and testing the weight. It was heavy and ornate, but it was not exactly unattractive. It was very much a show piece.

"You want to propose?" The question was blunt and, as she looked over at Rodolphus, he actually seemed nervous and uncertain. "That was why you planned dinner."

"Yes." His voice was even tenser. She suspected it was more nerves than anger now. She actually liked to see Rodolphus like this. She liked to know she had him second guessing.

The corners of her lips twisted upwards and she held out the ring to Rodolphus.

"Good. Then you had better put this on my finger."

For the smallest second, she saw surprise in Rodolphus' face as his lips slowly started to slide upwards. "Then you are saying yes? You do want to marry me?"

Sighing, she waited for the inevitable reaction. "Yes, you stupid fool. Now put the ring on my finger before I have to do it myself."

There was no hesitation. Slightly too fast and clumsy for Rodolphus' normal actions, he slid the band along her finger and, before she could even look down at how it appeared on her hand, his lips crushed against hers.

It was oddly tender and filled with emotions. Immediately she added passion to the mix pushing Rodolphus back against the bed.

In some ways she was happy. She had decided she wanted to marry Rodolphus and now she was. However, she did not want to hear that he loved her.

She might marry him, but she could never love him.

)o(

Druella would never be pleased about any of her daughters arriving home at dawn. She thought staying out that late was for mudbloods, filth and whores. It was simple not the practice of well bred young ladies. Despite that, it was a habit Bellatrix was fond of; likely just to incense her.

However, on this occasion Druella was not at all irritated as she knew why she was so late and, more importantly, what news she would bring.

Sharing a significant look with Cygnus whose eyes flicked up from the Prophet, she took a small sip of her tea remaining calm and still. Neither Narcissa nor Andromeda who casually ate their breakfast without any abnormality knew what was going on. Druella only knew because Rodolphus had asked Cygnus' permission for Bella's hand a few nights ago.

It was a great relief. She had worried about Bellatrix. She was not subtle and so many times she was so very inappropriate. She had almost disgraced herself so many times, but somehow still managed to land on her feet. She only hoped a marriage would calm her down. It would have to.

She sat in wait for a while sharing a glance with Cygnus now and again as her tea slowly went cold. She had assumed that Bella's absence from last night was because she had said yes and, despite how inappropriate it was, had stayed the night with Rodolphus. She assumed she would be home soon.

She had best be. It would be the last straw in Druella's eyes if Bellatrix rejected an offer from an acceptable man like Rodolphus Lestrange.

However, finally the telltale sound of Bella's footsteps were heard and the glass breakfast doors opened.

Druella ignored her messy hair and the robes from yesterday and focused on her daughter's face.

She seemed to be smiling.

Glued to her features, Druella rose gracefully to her feet and drew closer to Bella.

Automatically her daughter drew her gaze to her. "Oh not now, mother," she snapped half heartedly as she moved to walk around her. "I don't need a lecture."

"No you don't." Druella's voice was soft as she reached deliberately for her daughter's left hand. She found exactly what she wanted as the beautiful gold diamond ring hit the light. Meeting her daughter's eyes, she found herself smiling. "He asked you then?"

Bella looked uncertain for a moment, but she recovered and nodded slowly. "He did."

She squeezed her daughter's hand softly and leaned over to kiss her gently on the cheek something she could not remember doing to her first born for a long time. "Then congratulations, my beautiful girl."

Stepping back, she allowed Narcissa to throw herself on her sister, followed by the reserved reaction of Cygnus.

All the while, Druella still managed to smile.

Maybe there was hope for Bella after all.

)o(

"So you have no solution," Voldemort remarked tracing his eyes over Nicholas already knowing his answer from the way he refused to meet his eye. "You leave me with no other alternative."

"There does not seem to be ano-"

Raising his pale hand, he cut off the pitiful quavers and excuses from the mouth of the man who should have provided him with a solution. The mounting anger that had simmered since the inevitable fate of what he had to do intensified and he knew his eyes were probably flaring red.

"Then I am left with no other choice."

Standing to use up some pent up energy, he paced, his stride long and powerful as he curled his hands in fists.

"But do you know who? I can assist in-"

He knew Nicholas just wanted to be of some use after his failure, but Voldemort was not prepared to give him that opportunity. "No," he snarled, the anger impossible to hold in as he twisted on his heel. "I already know. It is not an ideal solution, but it can be made tolerable by a woman who will know her place and not have any foolish delusions in her mind."

Nicholas nodded his eyes still downcast no doubt trying to guess who he could be referring to. Watching him, his anger continued while he snarled, "Enough. Leave."

Voldemort ignored the farewell and the closed door. He continued to pace trying to construct what he would and how he would proceed. He would have to structure the engagement and the ceremony particular so as to ensure it advantaged his purpose and emphasised the publicity. However, he needed to ensure the woman kept her place and did not start to have any foolish delusions.

There was only one positive.

He did not need to worry about Bella's answer.


	17. Insanity

A/N: And now the interaction that was requested. This was actually a very hard chapter to write, but I hope the result is satisfactory.

)o(

It was about a week later that Bella was summoned by the Dark Lord. She had of course see him when matters needed to be handled at work, but, during those occasions, others had been present so it felt like it provided an excuse to ignore the bulky weight on her finger.

She would never have lied to her Lord, though she questioned how interested he would be. It was what she told herself anyway even though a part of her was unsure of his reaction.

Now, as her mark burned on her arm and she strode swiftly up the stairs of her Master's home, she tried to push those nagging thoughts away. She would tell her Lord. It was the right thing to do and of course she would not keep it a secret from him, but she was not necessarily sure about when she would deliver him the news. She did not want to bother him. He would not be too interested. She knew what she was to him. She would merely wait for the most appropriate opportunity.

She was not quite sure if that opportunity was now as she knocked on the door to the Dark Lord's bedroom and entered once his majestic voice answered in the affirmative.

"Master." Bowing low, she walked slowly into the room kneeling before the Dark Lord who stood in front of his familiar bed.

The very sight of him pushed away her uncertainties. She knew there was only one reason why she would be summoned to his bedroom and she could not help but smile and feel her insides clench at the thought of soon having him inside her.

"Stand." There was no room for any greeting by him, but she did not spare it a second thought. She could hear a note of irritation in his voice, but she had adapted too much to her Lordships mannerism to be bothered by them. Despite the small whispers in her head, she was sure he could not be annoyed at her for any reason.

Following his order, she did as was instructed standing before him. She barely got her footing before the Dark Lord's hand shot out and gripped her wrist. It was a little painful, but her heart leaped as he pulled her closer. She took it as her cue and, before he could even complain or comment, she crashed her lips to his.

She pressed her lips hard to him moaning slightly as his tongue slid through her lips. She allowed him all of it only lightly brushing her tongue against his while she slid her left arm around his neck pulling him down slightly while going on the tips of her toes to meet his impressive height.

Lost in the marvellous sensations and presence of her Lord, she gasped when she was suddenly pushed away. She nearly toppled over, but she was saved by her Lord gripping her arm painfully once again.

"Master I-" Her floundering words were cut off by her Lord's harsh tone.

"What was that?" he hissed his eyes gleaming red as they only did in anger. Her good mood slipped away and a knife went through her as he yanked her hand closer to his eyes. "What is that?"

Her hand shook slightly. She concentrated on her engagement ring following the matching focus of the Dark Lord. She could not stop the inevitable conclusion by the pursing of his lips and the flash of red in his eyes; he was furious.

"Rodolphus proposed," she said softly unable to hide the hesitancy in her voice. "It was only last week. I didn't think you would be too interested and I didn't think you-"

She shrieked more in surprise than in pain as a Cruciatus Curse struck her in the chest. Toppling to the floor, she withered and shook from agony. The pain was intense and terrible, but she bore it until the curse was lifted.

Gasping and flung on her hands and knees, she lifted her head and observed her Lord. She had angered him somehow. She did not know how or why, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence for it not to be related to her engagement to Rodolphus. She did not know why that would irritate him. She had assumed he would be fine with her being married.

"I'm sorry, Master." Her voice was shaky from the torture, but she still slowly tried to get on her knees. "If this is about my engagement to Rodolphus I did not think you would care. I never would have agreed if-"

Her Lord shot his hand out again and gripped her jaw, his nails digging hard into the side of her cheeks. "Break it off."

It was one thing for the Dark Lord to be surprised that she was engaged it was another for him to object so harshly to the engagement that he would want it to end. "Master I don't understand..."

He growled under his breath and she was yanked off her knees and thrown against a nearby dresser the pressure against her head making her eyes swim. "Do not defy me!"

"I never would," she said quickly in a rush. "If you want me to of course I will end my engagement with Rodolphus. I just did not think you would object."

His eyes bit down, examining her like he was seeing everything. He did not raise his voice again. She could only presume that, despite the fact he still had her pinned against the furniture, it was a positive sign

"Good."

The hand around her neck released itself as the Dark Lord stepped away as he slowly paced the room. Still leaning against the dresser, she followed his every movement as if hypnotised. Perhaps she was pushing her luck, but the curiosity of his reaction was eating at her.

"But, my Lord. I still don't understand. Why don't you want me married to Rodolphus? Would you prefer I remained unmarried?"

The figure of her lord paused in his movements. Her heart missed a beat as he slowly turned around. His expression was calm, but his eyes were glowing as step by step he drew closer. Again he went for her jaw, his grip tight as if he was trying to emphasise some point.

"I don't want you to marry Rodolphus for one simple reason." He paused all the while his voice seemingly deliberately cold. "You will marry me."

Everything stopped. Her body froze her eyes widened. There was fuzz in her brain and all she could hear was the buzzing of crickets out the window.

Everyone had always assumed she was crazy, but she had never believed it until that moment.

She must have been crazy to think she had heard those words leave the Dark Lord's lips. They could only have been heard in one of her most lurid and foolish fantasies.

However, he had spoken. He was looking at her his eyes still gleaming scarlet. His lips thinned almost like he was impatient. He must have said something, but it could not have been what she had heard.

"Ma- I- I'm sorry, my Lord I... must have misheard," she staggered and spluttered her hands at her sides suddenly shacking. "What did you say?"

Those thin lips suddenly twisted upwards. The gleam of red anger was still there, but he seemed to be smirking. "You will marry me."

She blinked quickly her eyes as wide like a house elf. There were those words again, but they could not be right. Her Lord did not want to marry her. The Dark Lord would never have such a desire. She knew that.

"I don't understand..."

The corners of her Lord's lips twisted even higher as one of his hands moved from his side. She watched as it moved to her left hand. His cool flesh met her own slowly pulling the ring from her finger. Her heart was suddenly thumping hard in her chest as the clink of metal hitting the polished floorboards echoed around the room.

"You _will _marry me."

Slowly, she nodded along with her words as if she was in a trance. She was not really sure she understood what was happening as the words started to sink into her brain.

He wanted her to marry him.

"Do not think I love you. It is not about that, but for politics and appearance sake."

"I know you don't love me," she replied softly repeating the only words that seemed to make sense. "I know that."

"It will only be a ruse. Nothing will ever change. I am still above all your master. I expect you to obey me without question no matter what and do not even expect that anything will ever change. Understand?"

She did not. She understood that he was above all her master and she would always obey him. She understood that nothing in their interactions would ever change. She just did not understand the concept of marriage to the Dark Lord. That could only occur in her dreams. However, instead of expressing her uncertainty, she nodded.

"Yes, my Lord," she replied obediently her naked fingers now fluttering frantically against her leg.

"Good." She detected a more pleased and less irritated note in his voice as his hand on her jaw loosened into more of a caress as he stared down at her with an unbreakable gaze. "Yes, Bella. I think you will make an acceptable wife.


	18. Starting To Believe

A/N: I know some people noted that last chapter was small and this one (and likely next week's chapter) is also small. I'm in the middle of my final weeks of Uni so I apologise for that, but I hope the evolving plot will make up for it. I think you can now all start to see where this is going as the Dark Lord's involvement thickens.

Also, I will get around to review replies. There were some comments I did want to address.

)o(

As she opened her eyes the next morning, Bellatrix was still in a trance. Her eyelids were heavy and her brain was fuzzy. It felt like she had not slept, but then she had such a lovely dream.

Of course, it was a dream. She knew it had to be. Marriage to her Lord only belonged in a dream land.

Pulling the covers tightly to herself, she twisted onto her back smiling at the memory.

"Bella!" A voice said loudly from outside her door followed by a series of loud raps. "Wake up! You're needed down stairs."

It was strange to hear Narcissa like that. She seemed in a hurry and almost stressed. The blankets of her bed were warm and the memories of her dream were so sweet it was so very tempting to return to her dream world, but, as another series of knocks sounded, she sighed and sat up.

It would be impossible to try to get back to sleep.

Standing up, she threw her messy hair over her shoulder as she wrenched open the door. Narcissa stared back at her already dressed, but her composure was marred by wide eyes that seemed almost to suggest sadness.

"Cissy?" she questioned, a little surprised as she observed the strange display. "What is going on?"

Narcissa bit the tip of her lip, but Bella ignored it staring back at her and waiting for an answer. "The Dark Lord is here. He arrived and went in for a meeting with father. They have been in there an hour, but father called that he needed to speak to you."

Only a few words registered in her mind.

The Dark Lord was here.

She was in a daze as she slammed the door on her sister without a word. The memories of what had to have been a dream filled her as she dressed slower than she should have. Still it was not long before she wore a simple set of robes and descended the stairs unsure of where to go, but she was still somehow pulled in the direction of her father's study.

Pausing before the mahogany door, she noted its closed state as she raised her knuckles taking the chance.

No voices slid from under the cracks, but the door was suddenly wrenched open and she stared into the face of her father. Underneath his gold rimmed glasses, his dark eyes looked down at her with distaste that she could not understand. Her eyes lingered with his trying to communicate a message, but it was all lost when a voice sounded from behind her father.

"Ah, there you are Bella. Come in. We have been discussing you."

The cool voice of the Dark Lord was the same in her dream erasing the concentration on her father with ease. She gravitated towards him sliding past her figure and entering the room properly.

Her Lord was reclining on her father's favourite armchair by the fire, a cup of tea in his hand and his slender body half twisted towards the door.

It was like she was in the same dream unable to really comprehend what was happening. The memories were enough for colour to flare in her cheeks as she bowed her head to her Lord.

"I was informing your father about our engagement." His voice was only soft and calm, but it made her dart her head up as if he had shouted.

Her dream was brought back to her with perfect clarity. She wanted to question him again, but she was not sure what to do or what to think at what now seemed like a reality.

Even if she still had not registered what was going on, slowly, for the first time, a smile crept over her lips.

"He has pointed out that Rodolphus will need to be informed and that it is unfair that he has been robbed of his fiancée."

"No!" she exclaimed before she could help herself wrenching around to glare at her father who was still loitering by the door. "How can you compare Rodolphus to the Dark Lord?"

Her father's eyes cautiously flicked to the Dark Lord and for once she did not take advantage of the opportunity to mimic him. She only glared back at her father. Somehow the dream that had seemed unbelievable now seemed a possibility. She was not sure whether it ever really could be but now an opportunity had appeared she knew she had to fight for it.

"I am not saying that," her father replied slowly and steadily as if he was reasoning and deliberating on every word, "but promises were made and it would be wrong to break them."

Bella thought he was insane. How could he imagine that an acceptance of a proposal was comparable to the vow of total loyalty she had given the Dark Lord? There were no similarities. Her vow to her Lord went up above anything and this promise would mean more entirely.

She was about to snap and attempt to make her father see the truth, but the Dark Lord spoke first.

"Rodolphus would not need to be disadvantaged." She shot her gaze back to her Lord unsure of what he was saying. "He has been a good follower and he is a good pureblood man. I would not take from him without compensation. The Blacks and Lestranges seemed destined to be joined. It would only be right if that were to be the case. You have two more daughters. It is logical."

Rodolphus and Narcissa or Rodolphus and Andromeda? It seemed so strange. Narcissa was set to become a Malfoy in the future and Rodolphus would never settle for a blood traitor on the scale of Andromeda, yet her father was nodding though he did not seem particularly happy about doing so.

"I suppose it is an option."

"And a good one at that." The corners of the Dark Lord's lips twisted upwards slowly. "And it would leave you with two daughters married along with the continued alliance with the Lestranges. It could only be a positive."

"Though..." Her father trailed off his eyes lowering to the ground as he thought before he continued to speak. "I am unsure if it would be desired by all parties."

Bellatrix supposed her father had a point, yet she still found herself in agreement with the Dark Lord for the simple reason of who he was. She was in a daze only now starting to comprehend her own situation let alone her sisters' fates.

The faintest flicker of scarlet flared in the Dark Lord's eyes for a moment before it disappeared, but the slightly quaver in her father's frame made Bella assume it had been seen.

"I intend to compensate my follower and I will do so."

There was steel in her Master's voice, yet, she could see in the downward lowering of her father's eyes, he was not convinced. Wisely he did not reveal that.

"Of course."

"Good." His eyes flicked from her father to her and she was grateful that, while there was no fondness in his gaze, there was no anger. "I will see you later, Bella, I have matters to deal with. You may tell your family and close acquaintances of the match. I will announce it when it is appropriate, but if rumours trickle down I will not be angered."

Bella nodded along her smile now growing larger. "Of course, my Lord. As you wish."

"However, you do not need to tell Rodolphus. I will arrange matters with him."

She could have objected to how cruel it would be for the news to not come from her, but she could not.

She was in too much bliss to care.

She would marry the Dark Lord.

)o(

Rodolphus did not cry. Crying was for women and weak men. Rodolphus was none of things so he certainly would not let his eyes water like a fool.

It did not mean it was not avoid the natural instinct to do so.

Taking a long sip of scotch, he avoided glaring at the engagement ring on the table the Dark Lord had returned to him in, as the familiar burn went down his throat.

He had lost her. The joy and delight of finally knowing that Bella would be his wife had slipped away with only the shortest conversation with the Dark Lord.

Rodolphus had always been confident that he was safe in the knowledge the Dark Lord would never want to marry or return Bella's feelings in anyway. It might not have been perfect, but he would end up with the women he loved.

He had been wrong.

For some reason the Dark Lord had changed his mind and taken away his Bella.

He could not imagine his life consisting of another. Since he was seventeen he had seen her as his wife and now it was all gone. He did not even have any time to grieve since the Dark Lord was already pushing Andromeda and Narcissa on to him.

They just could not compare.

No one could.

Closing his eyes to stop any liquid escaping, he tilted back his neck and swallowed the last of the alcohol.

Even for Bella, he would not cry.


	19. Chills

**A/N:** Again sorry for the shorter chapter. Hopefully the next one will be longer.

)o(

Bringing a spoonful of yoghurt to Dora's mouth, Andromeda could not help but flick her gaze to the figure of her elder sister. They had an unspoken agreement to ignore the other's existence. It was the only way they could cope to stop Andromeda throttling the woman who had destroyed her entire life. However, on this occasion, she had to look. She was too cautious of Bellatrix's current mannerisms. They were chilling her to her very core.

Her sister was too happy. Her eyes were alight, her grin was broad and she did not say anything but looked down at her tea. She had been like that for half a day and her mood seemingly increased at every moment.

It put her on edge. Andromeda could not imagine anything that made Bellatrix happy could bode well for anyone; especially her and Dora.

Unconsciously, she wrapped her arm tighter around her daughter. She hoped she was wrong about her conclusion, but she doubted it.

"Why are you in such good spits today?" Narcissa asked Bellatrix as she looked over from the lounge where she had been engaging their mother in conversation.

Andromeda kept her gaze focused on Dora who she continued to feed, but her eyes were at attention listening to the conversation. Cissy was one of the few people Bella would bother to be truthful with.

"Have you not told her?" Her mother snapped before Bellatrix could ever answer. "Why would you not inform your sister?"

As could be expected, Bella did not flounder under their mother's stare. Her smile did not falter. She only grew smugger as she focused her attention on Narcissa.

"I'm going to be married."

Andromeda's eyes narrowed as she focused her gaze downwards. They already knew that. Her announcement of her engagement to Rodolphus had occurred two weeks ago. However, it did not explain why it would change her mood now.

"I know and I know it must be wonderful," Cissy said softly though she seemed uncertain. "I was just curious because today you seemed in so much better spirits. Have you and Rodolphus started planning?"

Like a kneazle, Bella's grin increased. "No, not with Rodolphus."

Narcissa's lips pursed slightly as she paused before she spoke. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Stop toying with Narcissa, Bella," their mother scolded scowling obviously. "Tell them."

Andromeda half expected Bella to ignore their mother, but she only smirked and turned to Cissy. "The Dark Lord and I are going to be married."

Dread slid down her spine as she looked at her sister with wide eyes. What was she thinking? She hardly even considered Rodolphus. She only thought about all the tales and all the horror the Dark Lord had caused. Obviously her sister followed him, but marriage was preposterous. He was a monster. He was not someone anyone who was sane would ever want to marry.

Andromeda would have assumed a wife would have to be forced yet she was smiling with delight.

Her anger and fury at her for Ted's death still simmered and seethed at every moment, but she had never been so disgusted at her until this moment. She was obviously a mad and twisted woman.

Unable to look at the sick grin on her sister's face, she lifted her gaze to Narcissa. She seemed just as shocked as Andromeda felt and she did not look any happier.

"I don't understand... What about Rodolphus?" she asked softly her voice cautious.

Bellatrix only laughed. "Who cares about Rodolphus? I'm marrying the Dark Lord! It is an absolute honour. Why aren't you happy for me?"

"But you loved him?"

Bella made a scathing noise at the back of her throat. "Hardly. I will have the Dark Lord as a husband. There can be nothing greater."

Slowly Narcissa nodded. "Well... I'm glad you are happy," she murmured but she did not seem at all convinced.

"I am. Very happy."

As Bella took a ling sip of her tea, Andromeda darted her eyes upwards just enough to catch Narcissa's eye. They shared a long look.

It felt like such a long time since Andromeda felt like she could agree with one of her sister's. For all of Narcissa's faults they were both still wary about what having the Dark Lord in the family would mean.

)o(

"That was pleasant," The Dark Lord said softly as if he was as much a usual member of the aristocracy as he placed his cutlery on his plate without so much as an unsavoury clink. "Thank you, Druella."

"Not at all, my Lord," mother replied her voice perfectly level without any hint that anything was wrong or unusual.

Narcissa knew it was not. Narcissa could see the tension in the corners' of her parents eyes and feel the unease that lingered over everything.

She knew why. They all felt it. Mother had always wanted Bella married, but that all seemed to be tied to Rodolphus. It would have been right to link the two in marriage after all the time they had been together. Then suddenly it was all gone. Somehow Bella had thrown Rodolphus over. It made her feel ill. It made her assume her sister could be so false to a fiancé and, worse, leave her assuming that he sister may not have been faithful. She knew Bella had many faults, but this seemed something else entirely.

It made her so very uneasy particularly because nothing could be done about nor could anything be spoken about. Nothing could ever change. She even felt sorry for poor Rodolphus.

"Well, I am quite pleased I have had this opportunity. After all, matters must be sorted."

"Are you sure that needs to be sorted now?" her father chimed in his voice cautious but hinting that he did not agree. "Of course, I would not oppose you my Lord, but I am unsure of the timing..."

"Do you intend to leave your daughters in the dark?" The Dark Lord cut back though his cool face did not falter. "That would seem incredibly wrong to keep such a secret from them."

Narcissa felt a chill surge through her that had nothing to do with the advancing winter as she watched the exchange. He said 'daughters'. It was not just one daughter, namely Bella, but multiple; likely her. She had heard rumours and stories about what he was like and she had seen the stress that he caused Lucius. She knew what he was capable of and what he did; even with his own servants.

The Dark Lord was an incredible man as leader, but, as someone who would personally have an involvement in her life, he was not so desirable.

"I suppose so, my Lord," her father answered reluctantly. He did not have a choice. No one did but to agree to the Dark Lord's will.

"Good." The Dark Lord's lips twisted half upwards, but his eyes were too cool to ever be considered a smile as his gaze flicked from Andromeda was staring down at her half untouched plate to Narcissa. Before she could help herself, she shuddered as she quickly looked down. There was nothing comfortable or reassuring about having his gaze upon her. "You see I do not want you to think that Rodolphus Lestrange is out of your lives forever. I am hardly so cruel and I hardly intend to rob him of his future. He will have a part to play for the Blacks."

As the words washed over Narcissa wanted to stand and scream for an explanation as numerous unappealing prospects washed over her, but she stayed quiet. She was too well bred to exclaim and make a fuss like a common mudblood.

No one else spoke either. The silence drew on and stretched out until the Dark Lord continued to speak. "It is only right that Rodolphus will still marry a Black. In that light, I will personally encourage such a match between either you Andromeda or you Narcissa and Rodolphus. It is only right that it occurs."

The tiniest noise between a gasp and a whimper left her throat as she scrunched her eyes tightly closed.

No, it was not right. It could not be right. She knew what forcing Rodolphus to marry either her or Andromeda would mean.

Clenching her entire body, she forced herself not to show her emotions, but she knew it was an impossible task. She knew this would ruin everything.

She and Lucius were meant to marry.

Rodolphus would never marry a blood traitor. Rodolphus would only have one other option.

Before she could say anything she would regret, she raised her head opening her eyes that were at least not yet filled with water. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly in a voice that, despite her desires, still quavered. "But may I be excused. I'm not feeling well at all."

She knew the eyes of everyone were upon her and she quickly averted her gaze to the opposite wall as she tried to still her shaking hands under the table.

"Of course," her mother said quietly from behind her even if she was not technically the one with the authority to answer. "You may be excused. I will check on you later."

Narcissa could not even reply. She could only nod stiffly as she rose and fled from the room with as much grace as possible.

It was only when she stepped into the hall and gained isolation that the tears started to fall.


	20. A Matter of Perspective

A/N: Two more weeks of small chapters and then we are back to normal. Soon you will also get another insight into Voldemort's thoughts.

)o(

Narcissa was not quite sure she knew what to feel. The echo of the Dark Lord's declaration flowed through her at every moment. It repeated itself again and again, unhindered and continuous.

She could not marry Rodolphus. She was meant to marry Lucius. She had known that for years. He was and always would be the love of her life and, while he was not so obvious with his feeling or the type to make loud declarations, she knew he felt the same way.

It would have only been a formality. A few short months and she knew he would have proposed and it would have all been settled. Yet, that opportunity had not come.

Since that night and, for about a week, she had been avoiding Lucius. She had made a number of excuses just to be by herself and to have some time to think. She knew what would happen. She knew she would be forced to marry Rodolphus. Logically, she had no choice but to accept. If she did not, she knew she would likely be killed.

Yet, she still hesitated.

Narcissa had never had to fight for Lucius. He had always been there and their relationship had always been blessed and encouraged by everyone, but now there was an obstacle. She knew she deeply wanted to leap over it, but she doubted she could or it was possible to do so.

It was strange. In the few moments she had seen Andromeda, while she had not been avoiding everyone, her gaze had lingered for too long on her sister. Her sister's motivation for marrying the mudblood had never seriously entered her mind, though now somehow they were at the forefront.

Andromeda had run away for the love of her life but, could Narcissa do the same?

She felt sick to the thought of comparing her Lucius to that filth and she knew the situation was different. Lucius and her would have to avoid the wrath of the Dark Lord himself, but still the notion of just leaving everyone behind for Lucius still persisted.

Narcissa was not sure if she liked that thought or not.

)o(

Bellatrix had been glowing for months. Flubberworms had been running in her stomach and it felt like levitation charms had been constantly placed under her feet. It was like nothing else she had ever experienced and, after all her dreams had been realised, she was sure she could never be happier or that she could ever feel sorrow.

Her conversations with her Lord on the topic had been minimal. For the past week their meetings had only been about work and, more often than not, they had been in the presence of others. It did not matter. A few weeks ago she might have been bothered, but the Dark Lord had said he would make the announcement when it was appropriate and the knowledge that she would be married to the Dark Lord was enough to sustain her delight.

Now, standing alone before the Dark Lord in his sitting room, it was so hard to keep her feet flat on the ground and to not bounce with joy.

"You wished to see me, my Lord," she said with a broad grin, her gaze focused on his face as she bowed her head.

Her Lord was not as gleeful. His face was blank except for the smallest frown on the corners of his lips. She was not too worried. Her Lord was not accustomed to revealing his emotions.

"Do you think I would have summoned you if I did not?" he snapped his voice hard as he drew towards her, his shadow elongated by the fire behind him. "I have no desire to waste my time."

"Is this about our mar-"

Just like always with a crack of a whip, his hand curled around her neck. "Do not think get ahead of yourself! Do not assume you have any control in this matter. It is not about you. It is not about fondness."

"I...know," she half stuttered as she tried to draw air into her lungs. Her eyes were wide but not from fear. Somehow she had upset her Lord and that could only fill her with dread and depression. "I never would."

His eyes were still harsh as flicks of red glowed in his eyes. "Nothing is settled. It can be ended without fuss or worry. You will never think that this is something that it is not. I will settle what needs to be settled. You do not need to concern yourself."

Bella nodded slowly unsure of his sudden anger, but she knew not to question him. "Yes, my Lord. Of course."

She could see his eyes started to lose their harshness and drift, not to fondness but to blankness as he observed her. "Good."

She had assumed that it would have been the reason for him summoning her, but she forced any hesitations or notions to question him as she waited for his reaction.

It was only a moment wait.

His hand shot out from his side curling around the tresses of her hair. He yanked it upwards, pulling her upwards onto the very tip of her toes. She gasped quietly in pain as her scalp shot with pain. She did not fight him as he crashed his lips to hers.

It was harsh; enough to bruise her lips. It was not the kiss of two fiancés but she did not care as she returned it will equal passion. It still lit up her entire body and lit a fire underneath her as she tried to match the movement of his lips.

Taking the risk, she lifted her hand to his neck. Her skin hummed with the pleasant coolness of his skin, but she barely brushed against his skin before he yanked her hand away. His hand crushed against hers as he pulled at her hair and separated their lips.

"So- sorry, my Lord," she mumbled her face flushed with pleasure and humiliation. She should have known it was not wise to try and touch him when he was in this mood.

He barely seemed to listen as he dropped his hold on her hair and pushed her to the ground. She threw her forearm out as she fell onto the wooden floor. She barely felt the pain both from the often occurrence of such an event and from the turn of her head and body as she watched to the Dark Lord bearing down on her. The six foot six inch presence did not intimidate her. She only grinned with a hint of insanity as he bore down on her.

"Master," she whispered half to herself and half to him as he crushed his body to hers. She could already feel his excitement through their robes and flush against her belly. It was equal to her own and her dampening underwear as he tore through her clothes without any care or consideration. She could not care. She only pushed her hips up to meet his as he thrust into her.

)o(

It was hard to rise to her feet, but it was harder to repair her torn robes as she stood before her Lord who had somehow regained his composure once he had rearranged his robes.

"Is there anything else you require, my Lord?" she inquired as a simple charm knitted back the material, but not enough to hide the line of grey in her black robes where the tear had been. She longed to enquire still about the wedding, but she refrained herself.

"No, you are dismissed," he said coolly as was predicted. She bowed her head low without any sign of recognition. It was only when she reached the door and pushed it open that he spoke. "We will discuss the wedding at a later date. At present there are no arrangements that require your assistance."

Her eyes brightened considerably. "Oh, yes my Lord of course!" she exclaimed delightfully. She lingered over the doorway, but one pointed look from her Lord made her step outside the room and shut the door.

It did not damper her spirits. Her hair was in tangles, her robes would never be the same again, her skin was flushed, but her grin was broad as she lost herself in the rush of what the future would bring.

Inevitably she was too lost when the sound of a voice made her almost leap a foot in surprise. "Bella?"

Rodolphus stood before her just as tall and just as broad, but his blue eyes had lost any gleam as they ghosted over her. The smallest part of her pinched at the reasons for his expression, but the much more obvious joy at her knew fiancé pushed it all away.

"Yes?" she asked raising one eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

She could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his neck as if he was trying to swallow something while his eyes brushed over her frame. She was not ashamed of any conclusions that he would draw. "I have to see the Dark Lord," he murmured his voice low and slightly down as he nodded behind her to the door she had just exited from. "He required my presence."

Tutting slightly she drew herself to her full height. "Fine."

Stepping around him she did not look back. She refused to look back.

She did not notice Rodolphus' eyes following her or think about how her actions had impacted him.


	21. Quiet

Rodolphus forced his hand to keep moving. Over and over again he lifted his quill to the ink pot, blotted out the excess on a pad and moved it to the parchment where his writs flourished over each letter again and again without yielding to the temptation to stop. He knew he must not. He knew he must keep going. It did not matter that, after every moment, his words became less logical and less succinct. He could not stop.

He needed to focus on something other than his torturous thoughts.

It had been the first time he had been alone with Bella since he had been told that there would be no future between them. Of course he had seen the back of her head down a corridor at the Ministry and he had tried to meet her eye at meetings, but she had ignored him. At one point he had thought it might be a positive. Maybe it might have meant that she had cared. He knew he could not have her, but the possible knowledge that he was something more to her than something she might trade away for a better model was significant.

It was also wrong.

The Dark Lord had summoned him to his home with the direct instruction to arrive there at nine o'clock. Rodolphus had done exactly what he was required to do. However, seeing Bella had thrown him off balance. Not just seeing her, but seeing her in her state.

She had been glowing. Rodolphus had never seen her smile stretch so far over her beautiful features. He had never seen her mesmerising eyes so brightly lit and filled with so much joy. He had never seen her bouncing so much like she had been enchanted like a broom.

Rodolphus might have been able to fight off the dread that her mood brought if it was not so painfully obvious why she was so delighted. Her hair had been in tangles, her face had been flushed, her lips had been bruised, her robe had looked like it had been torn and hastily repaired and she had been leaving a room where the Dark Lord had been alone.

The Dark Lord had made her happier than Rodolphus ever could even after years of attempts. Rodolphus was not even that type of person. He did not run around trying to please others. He did what was wise and only worried about the opinions of others when it was advantage him.

She never had. Sure he had been able to fuck her when she was happy with him and he would have married a Black, but there had never been anything logical in how far he gone to win her over.

And how he had failed at doing so.

His hand and emotions slipped for the briefest moment as he blotted the dot on the eye too brutally. He glared down at the offending print as if it was the source of all of his problems before he drew in a long breath and lifted his quill to the ink bottle.

He must keep calm.

A sudden knock broke through the quiet of his office and Rodolphus was not sure if the distraction was a blessing or a curse until the head of his brother poked through the door.

"Hey!" Rabastan greeted his voice a little slurred and his face a little too flushed. "Mind if I come in?"

Without waiting for a response, Rabastan slid in staggering towards the chair in front of Rodolphus' desk without any grace. Somehow Rodolphus felt his lips moving upwards at the sight of his intoxicated brother. He had been out with friends for a few hours and now he returned like this.

"You obviously had a good night," Rodolphus commented dryly. "Did one firewhisky do this to you like always?"

"Five!" Rabastan bit back defensively.

Rodolphus could not help but chuckle wondering how only such a small amount of drinks could have such an impact on his brother. Glancing over his stick like frame and thin arms, he supposed that was some explanations behind his brother's inability to handle his liquor.

"And how did mother and father react to seeing you after five drinks?"

"They didn't see me." Rabastan smiled proudly like he was ten and not twenty one. "Rosaline saw gave me a bit of a lecture, but oh well it is only Rosaline. It's not like our on sister would report back to mother at every moment."

"There is nothing wrong with her encouraging you to be responsible."

"She treats me like a baby. It's not like I'm going to get hurt."

"You could." Rodolphus' voice was quiet very aware of Rabastan's weaknesses. He was alright with his wand, but he was so fragile. It was so easy for his brother to get sick and, without Bella, his siblings were the only people he now had to protect.

Rabastan stared up at him with the same bright blue eyes for a moment before he sighed. "I know but sometimes... I just need to do something... You are the heir. Everything is worked out for you."

Rodolphus' grip on his quill tightened as he looked directly into his brother's eyes. "Not anymore." He never would have admitted it to anyone but his brother.

Rabastan looked confused his eyebrows pinched downwards like he was trying to answer a particularly hard riddle. "Bella?"

Reluctantly, Rodolphus nodded. "Bella."

"But," Rabastan grinned like he had just remembered something. "The Dark Lord arranged for you to marry Andromeda or Narcissa. Can't you just marry one of them? They are just as gorgeous."

Rodolphus was reminded of how young Rabastan was and how he had still never had a girlfriend who had stuck around for more than a few months. "You don't understand, Rab. It's not the same."

"Suppose... But you have to marry one of them, don't you?"

It was just sad when a drunk made so much sense. Rodolphus did. One did not reject an offer from the Dark Lord. Maybe he could escape death as a punishment, but he would not risk losing his position in the ranks. Rabastan was right that it was not too bad, but no one could complain. Andromeda was a blood traitor and Narcissa was nothing compared to Bella. She was quiet and devoted. She would be a perfect trophy wife, but she lacked Bella's fire that drew Rodolphus in and, in the end, burned him.

"Most likely," he eventually replied slowly and with obvious disinterest. "Though, it is not much of a choice."

"No, it's not like you want to marry a blood traitor."

"Precisely. Narcissa is the only viable option."

A part of Rodolphus knew that Narcissa and Lucius were close, but they were not engaged and it seemed fair to him. After all, his future wife had been stolen. He had just as much right to take whoever he wished. He certainly did not want to marry a blood traitor like Andromeda.

)o(

Everyone thought Andromeda was clueless. Everyone thought Andromeda was quiet because she did not want to be involved in anything to do with the family.

They were only partially correct. She did want to blend into the shadows and to avoid the attention of others, but it did not mean she was ignorant. She knew she could not be. It was too dangerous. The others could not be trusted. They could so easily plan actions that would hurt her again, or worse, Dora.

Her beautiful darling girl who she always tried to keep by her side. However, it was not always possible. Some dinners she could not attend. While Andromeda loathed depriving herself of her daughters company, she sometimes felt it was a wise idea. She did not want her daughter to attract any negative attention. After all, no one could ever forget her father.

It all meant she had to be careful. The situation with Rodolphus was only making matters worse. She could not pretend she was not shocked and disgusted by the thought that she could possibly marry him, but she doubted he would ever choose her. She was more disgusted by the notion that, for all her parents many negatives, she thought they were not the type to sell their precious daughter away (for surely Rodolphus would choose Narcissa) like some sort of cattle. It made her feel sorry for Narcissa which was something she was more than a little surprised to feel since everything in life had always gone smoothly for Cissy.

It had even marked an unusual situation when she did want to talk to Narcissa. She wanted to sit down and tell her younger sister that it would be okay or, more importantly, that she had a choice. She could run away and never have to be forced into such a marriage.

Flicking her eyes up from her glass of wine, she glanced at Narcissa. She was quiet just like she had been for the past few weeks and only slowly picked at her food. A part of her went out to her but she quickly averted her eyes and pushed away the temptation.

It was best to stay quiet. She could still not easily forget what the family had done to her and abandoned her nor could she allow herself to get involved in family politics.

It was best to remain in the shadows.


	22. His Cissy

Rodolphus puffed out his chest and straightened his frame as he stared straight ahead and followed the pitiful creature in front of him. His blue eyes were like ice. He refused to display any emotion, despite the fact that every glimpse of cream wallpaper and every step upon crimson carpet reminded him of how this situation was wrong, but it could so easily have been right.

It was a trip he had already made. He had already followed a house elf to the familiar panelled door. On that occasion he had been thrilled. It had been so difficult for the grin upon his face to not burst open, but now he was trying to control his face's first reaction to fall into sorrow.

"It is here, Mr Lestrange," the creature squeaked as it bowed its too large head and gestured to the door as if Rodolphus did not know where he was going. "Master is there for you."

Rodolphus did not waste his breath with the creature, but turned the door handle and stepped inside.

Cygnus was already waiting for him. He sat on a chesterfield armchair an open book placed on his lap, but his eyes did not move over the page. He looked glum and crestfallen; the very opposite compared to the last time Rodolphus had visited him in this room.

"Good morning Rodolphus," Cygnus greeted his voice clipped as he turned to him. "Sit. I believe we have matters to address."

There was no pleasantness but this was not a pleasant occasion. Rodolphus knew that, but he had little choice. He had no desire to be noble and sacrifice his life for another. He would do what was best for him.

"We do," Rodolphus agreed ensuring he did not display any uncertainties. He did not need them to be ponced upon. He knew what he had to do. "I have made my decision in regards to the Dark Lord's... offer."

The tips of Cygnus' lips pursed together, but Rodolphus did not flinch. "Have you? Was the offer too good to refuse?"

"It was impossible to refuse." For the first time Rodolphus found himself snapping though he tried to control himself. "So I have not done that."

"Then what was your decision?"

"There was only one I could make." Rodolphus swore he saw a hint of something vulnerable under Cygnus' dark eyes that were so similar to Bella's but it disappeared just as quickly. "I would like to request Narcissa's hand for marriage."

Cygnus did not look surprised nor did he look impressed. "Of course. And of course you would be aware of the consequences of such a question." His tone was cold and like a lecturer. Rodolphus refused to shiver. "You are aware that Narcissa and Lucius would have been married in only a short year if you had not made this request."

"I'm aware," Rodolphus said curtly attempting to not suggest that he should be married to Bella in a year's time. "But I have made my decision. I assume it is accepted."

Cygnus glared back at him, his gaze intense. Rodolphus did not turn nor blink. He only stared back like he was facing off against a Hippogriff. It was only several moments later that Cygnus sighed and looked down.

"As you know I have no choice but to expect it but know I do not do this without any pleasure or joy. I do not wish to destroy my daughter's life and break her heart."

Rodolphus blinked back surprised by the confession, but he fought to not show how it impacted him and to hide his basic instinct to analyse the situation. It was the best for him. He knew it was and it would not change.

"We all wish our lives could be perfect and how we envisaged them in our dreams, but it does not always turn out that way," he said simply his voice cool and crisp as he forced himself to say what he had to say. "Good day to you, Mr Black."

Rodolphus did not hear a farewell but he did not expect one. He kept working and kept concentrating on the reasons for his decision.

It was probably a positive that he did not look to the side and glance upon Narcissa who was waiting in the shadows with tears in her eyes.

)o(

Lucius had not been expecting anyone. If he had he would not have allowed his hair to be in such disarray nor would he have allowed himself to recline on his favourite lounge in the downstairs living room with robes that were unappealing to look at but were so comfortable. However, when he looked up at the sound of a house elf calling for him and the hurried sound of heels clicking on wooden floor, he could not bring it within himself to be upset when Narcissa burst through the door.

He barely had an opportunity to compute her presence or to take account of the state she was in before she threw herself at him. He was taken aback but his hands instinctively curled around her lithe waist as she leaned half on him and half on the lounge. He did not consider pulling away as he leisurely rubbed her back.

"Cissy," he gasped his voice muffled by her hair and its familiar scent. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he leaned back slightly but only enough to see her face. "Darling, what is wrong?"

A knife stabbed into his throat along with a feeling of white rage. Her hair was in disarray, her face was patchy with red blots, her eyes were puffy and there were trails of makeup coming from under her eyes. Cissy did not look like that. Cissy always looked immaculate a fact he valued very highly. However, now that seemed to have gone. Towards others he might have limited his opinion of someone, but he could not. He only looked at her and wondered who had dared hurt her in such a way.

However, she did not answer. She only let off a stifled sob as she buried her head into his shoulder again.

He frowned slightly and continued to caress her softly while he remained silent for a while. He did not know what was bothering her and he needed to know especially since his presence did not seem to help her but only made her sobbing and whimpering continue in a song that did not seem like it was going to halt at any time soon.

He could only take it for a certain length of time. The anger at the possibility of who had hurt her had simmered away for too long.

"Please tell me what is wrong," he said softly into her ear. "You know I want to help you."

"You can't," she whispered slightly her voice scratchy as her hands curled tighter into the folds of his robes. "No one can."

"I can," he urged momentarily taken aback by the sudden sound of her voice. "You know I can. You know I would never allow you to be upset."

"But you can't do anything!"

"Why?"

She bit the tip of her lip and tilted her head so she was staring at him and he had a full view of her blotchy face. As she looked at him he watched as a fresh river of tears trickled down her face. "No one can. I- it's the Dark Lord."

It was not what Lucius expected to hear. For a moment he thought he misheard before he told himself that no he had not. However, still the mention of the Dark Lord from Cissy's lips was so unusual. Why he would cause any issues in her life. He thought their only contact was through Bellatrix.

"What do you mean?"

She looked up at him through wide blue eyes which showed all the emotion, sorrow and vulnerability. Instinctively, his grip on her tightened as she reluctantly opened her mouth to speak. "He- its Rodolphus. After the Dark Lord and Bella became engaged he talked to Rodolphus... he arranged it so that Rodolphus would marry Andromeda... or me."

His back straightened and his legs snapped to attention before he could help himself and stood leaving Cissy to fall back onto the lounge. His heart rate suddenly cranked up as rage tore through him. She had only told him a little, but he knew it was enough.

Rodolphus was trying to take his Cissy. No one could do that. She was his. They were going to be married and she would never marry anyone else.

His hands curled into fists and, before he could even stop himself, his hand slithered into his pocket for his wand.

"Please." Her voice shot through him. Pleading, innocent and begging. The anger was still within him, but he bright beautiful eyes zapped his resolve and he fell on the lounge beside her. She was still crying and he felt his own throat tighten, though no water escaped. He reached for her again unwilling to let her go.

He would never let her go.


	23. Pleasing Anger

A/N: Here is the new chapter! Please be aware that I will likely edit this and repost it in a few days. Nothing will change as far as characterisation and plot, but it needs a more thorough editing process which I do not have time to do before the deadline for this chapter.

)o(

Bellatrix had never been one who was skilled at hiding her emotions. They were always clear on her features and she rarely ever cared about that. It was even more now as she stormed along the corridor that was panelled by wood and portraits. Each click of a heel on the floor was progressively more vicious digging into the crevices and marring the polished surface. Her face was contorted into harsh lines and raw fury. Every time her gaze swept over anyone they quickly ducked and hid but she did not care. Her rage was too lost to and too overwhelming.

She was about to explode. She needed to. She focused on her prey and she was ready to unleash. His office was down here not too far from hers and she was determined to confront him and remind him of his wrong actions and the consequences of what he had dared do.

She did not have to wait long. She just turned the corner and spotted the familiar tall and bulky masculine figure. His stride was confident, but as soon as he spotted her she saw his blue eyes widen and cool and his stride halt.

"Rodolphus," she snarled like a vicious tiger as her voice grew louder. "How _dare _you?"

He stopped watching her with his silent eyes examining her features almost as if he looked innocent. It incensed and increased Bella's rage. He knew exactly what he was guilty of.

"I do not know what you are talking about," he replied slowly after a moment's pause. "Nor do I know why you are so angry."

"My sister," she hissed in aw way that to an uninformed passerby may have seemed like an insult against her relative. "How dare you force her into marrying you? You fucking bastard! You know exactly what you are doing to her."

Rodolphus did not back down in the slightest. In fact, his pose only seemed to strengthen. "It is hardly something I have done. I had to choose between a blood traitor and a woman who was not. It was a simple decision and one that was forced upon me."

"You did not have to do anything!"

"You would prefer that I disobey the Dark Lord?"

All the hell full rage froze and she looked at him with wide manic eyes. Her tongue slowly wetted the bottom of her lips as she examined him.

It was what made this situation so difficult. She would never abdicate betraying or disobeying the Dark Lord, but the situation was so complicated and strange. It could have been a situation when she was comparing her loyalty to her sister and the Dark Lord, but Bella refused to focus on that. Instead she focused completely on what Rodolphus had done.

She opened her mouth to make an angry retort when another voice interrupted from behind her.

"I would hope you would not, Bella."

Bella leaped at the same jump as her heart as she turned on her heels to see the Dark Lord drawing closer his pace elegant and his robes trailing along the carpet. Her breath and her anger disappeared all at once with the sheer presence of him. The knowledge that he was by her made her face light up in contrast to the raw fury she felt towards Rodolphus.

Her beautiful Master, and now, fiancé.

"Never, I ju-" Bella blubbered, but was swiftly interrupted by the raise of one pale hand.

"No. I arranged the match. Rodolphus merely made a decision which was the most logical. He should not be punished for that."

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she could not help but breathe fire at Rodolphus despite her Lord's words. It was wrong to doubt her Lord's opinion, but Rodolphus' betrayal was visible and large. She did not even really consider what had motivated him. She was only focused on her opinion that would not change.

However, as she turned back to her lord, there was no ager only worship and obsession. "Yes, my Lord," she murmured dutifully without fail.

"Good." The Dark Lord traced his eyes briefly over her frame before he looked over her head towards Rodolphus. Immediately Bella felt jealously go through her at the absence of her Lord's attention. "I am pleased you have made your decision. We may discuss it later, but for now I have matters to deal with. Bella follow me."

His last comment was more of a sidenote, but it was enough for Bella to grin broadly like she had been eating sugar quills for weeks and chase after his already departing back. Every step was perfectly poised and level, but his long gait enabled him a swifter movement and Bella felt herself rushing more than she should. As always, she felt graceless compared to her Lord's perfection.

His movement continued until he reached his office. She did not hesitate, but walked in the room behind him. She felt the door slide shut behind him no doubt attributed to her Lord's mighty magic. She did not flinch, but continued to observe her Lord as he stopped in front of her with his back facing her.

"You need to control your anger," he said softly his voice thankfully absence of anger and more like he was considering a puzzle. It only eased Bella slightly and she felt her toes curl with unease. "It is not proper in light of what will be your future role."

"Yes, Master," she said immediately trying not to smile at his second statement.

"Especially with Rodolphus." The timbre of his voice suddenly harden and Bella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as he turned hard on his heel to face her. His eyes were narrowed the only mar in his flawless features. "One would wonder why you are so angry he has become engaged."

A shot of terror ran through her at his words. She had never thought her Lord would consider her actions. She had assumed he would always know the truth and be able to read her no matter what. She was ashamed to say she did not mind the anger. It was almost like he was jealous and the merest thought that her Lord could have enough regard for her to generate such an emotion pleased her immensely.

"No, of cour-"

Her words were quickly cut off by her Lord. He moved swiftly and suddenly his hand cupping her jaw not harshly, but she knew him well enough to know it was a warning. Still it was not unpleasant to feel his skin pressed against no matter the reason. It still sent goose bumps around her skin and made her heart lighten.

"Yes. I do not care about your reason. I will make this very plain. Do _not _take me for a fool. I will not be humiliated and I will not allow any suggestion that you prefer another to me. Understand this. I expect another form of loyalty from you now. If you even look at another man the wrong way, worse still if anyone notices such a gaze, I will not hesitate in punishing you."

His declaration was not unpleasant and she continued nodding along with him. It was strange. He seemed almost possessive, but his reasons seemed to be docked in logic rather than affection. She supposed she could understand why he would be irked at the notion that someone could accept she was being unfaithful to him. It would oppose his intentions for their marriage to be based on the purpose to appeal to the general public. Moreover, it would imply there was someone greater than him in even such a small matter and that could never be accepted. After all, it would be such a large falsity.

"I never had that thought, my Lord," she said her voice softer in an attempt to pacify him. "It was only because of my sister. I was only angry that he decided Narcissa. He has effectively destroyed all her plans and intentions for the future. She and Lucius were meant to be married."

His bloodied eyes racked her face searching for something and she was determined to not hide anything looking up at him with her mind and emotions open for him. "Perhaps," he stated sharply, "but if so it is a foolish thought. You would hardly expect Rodolphus to marry your other sister. Moreover, Narcissa was not engaged and Rodolphus is a fine match. There is little difference to marrying a Lestrange or a Malfoy."

Bella knew what the real reason was; Narcissa loved and adored Lucius in a way she could never feel about anyone else, but she could never say that to her Lord. He was too above such mortal emotions and mentioning them would only displease him and she could never want that. Instead, she nodded along with him unwilling to doubt or question him.

"Yes, my Lord, of course."

If he doubted the sincerity of her words, he did not show it. It was likely he just did not care as long as she was obedient.

"Good." His voice was crisp as he took a step away from her. "Now we have other matters to attend to."

She could not help but smile expecting the discussion of her marriage. "Yes, my Lord?"

Her Lord smiled as well but it was more one of amusement as he examined her. "Kneel."

Bella's gaze only held for a fraction of a second before she obeyed. Her mood suddenly spiked as she did what was ordered and her lord began to undo the fastenings of his robes. She tried to not display frustration at the limits of their conversation in regards to marriage, but it was easy to do as she set about pleasing her Lord in the way (she hoped) only she could.


	24. Watching

**A/N**: Here we go again. Just a warning this will be the last update for a few weeks. Since it is Christmas coming up we have a few weeks break from the competition. I will probably still be writing, but the break will be welcome to get the muse focused again and to get this story back on track. I am aware that not much has happened for a few chapters, but these filler chapters are necessary to build what will happen in the future.

)o(

Narcissa did not yield. Narcissa did not flinch. She sat tall and upright in the silk cushioned chair staring straight ahead at the empty seat across the round table that had been occupied by her sister before she had risen after the meal to socialise and dance. Narcissa may not have displayed the distress that was bearing down on her, but she could not stand and do what she normally would have adored. Dancing could bring her no merriment.

She knew what could.

Glancing over the abandoned chair, her eyes were magnetised towards the familiar blonde man. Tracing her gaze over his familiar frame and aristocratic features, her heart rate increased. She could not stop but glance at him. Nothing could ever make her or the urge stop. It was one of the few occasions that she and Lucius had not been positioned together at a dinner. She knew what it all meant, but it was too hard to accept. She still could not accept that Lucius would not be the man in her future. Even as the gulf between them started to widen, it was impossible to not imagine a time when the bridge between them could be reformed.

"Cissy," her mother warned from her position beside her in a softer tone than was uncharacteristic as she lightly brushed her fingers against her hand. "Don't."

Narcissa could only assume her mother was referring to her eyes on Lucius, but she did not move her stare. She could not. "I do not know what you mean, mother."

"I can see you staring at Lucius," she said her voice clear but not critical. "You need to stop, Cissy. I know it must be hard, but you can't continue to live in a dream that things will change when they will not."

Her throat instinctively burned, but she pushed away the feeling and Lucius' magnetic pull and lifted her gaze away from him and down to the pure white tablecloth. "I know," she murmured her voice quiet. "I know. I know, but it is not right. There has to be a way for it to change."

"There isn't."

"There must be." Her voice grew louder and she knew it was not the place to have this conversation, but something was building inside muting all of her sensible thoughts. Now it has burst it seemed impossible to plug the hole. "How can't there be?"

"Cissy." The warmth in her mother's voice caused her to lift her eyes to bright blue orbs filled with sympathy. "Wouldn't you think I would have done something is there was? I'm sorry but there isn't. There is no choice."

Narcissa give not give a verbal response. She only nodded slowly as she lifted her eyes yet again to Lucius. Her eyes trailed up and down his blonde licks and over his pointed chin and finely crafted cheekbones. It was so intoxicating to imagine him so close yet so far away. It was made even worse as his grey eyes flicked up to hers. A spark went through her and she longed to be closer.

She could not.

Unless, she abandoned everything.

She would have to throw away everything and hope Lucius was enough and that they could live in happiness with just the two of them. It would seem so simple. Staring into his eyes, she could see the reflection of the wedding ceremony she had only dreamed of. It might only have been the two of them, but it would have been perfect.

However, it would not be so simple.

It would not only mean the abandonment of all her future and all her entire way of life, but Lucius' too. He would have to abandon all of his ambitions and his alignment to the Dark Lord. It could never be as easy for him since he had taken the Dark Mark. It would mean they would have to spend their whole lives running from a man who they could never escape and who was more powerful and terrifying than anyone in history.

Whatever option Narcissa chose her fairy tale was over. It was time to face the reality.

Blinking back the sudden tears, she broke eye contact with Lucius. Turning to her mother, she found her continuing to stare at her. Her face was blank but in her eyes there was more sympathy than she was sure had ever existed. It made Cissy shake as she rose to her feet. Before anyone could stop her, she turned and fled the room unable to face anyone or anything.

It was all too much.

)o(

Sitting in the direct centre of the room, his chair surrounded by admirers and those trying to seek more influence, Lord Voldemort coldly surveyed the room slipping his eyes over various individuals and actions to decipher what was important and what was not.

He had certainly noticed the departure of Narcissa Black.

The girl did not matter to him. Her ties to Bella were not of any interest to him or any part of her individually, but she was a useful tool and gift to give out to test and tempt his followers.

Those who served him were mere mortals. They were too easily twisted and impacted by unimportant and foolish wants, desires and worse. He had known how Rodolphus had felt about Bellatrix and that they were engaged. It was very obvious from their interactions. He could have ignored that, but Rodolphus was a Lestrange. The Lestrange family had served him well in the past and, most importantly, likely would be useful asset in the future. Rodolphus himself would likely be the same and there was no reason to push them away especially when there was a solution available to merely marry him to another. That would solve that issue.

Though it seemed another had emerged. He had effectively ensured Lucius' fiancé had been taken from him. Malfoy was younger than Rodolphus and only rising slowly through the ranks. He was only barely on Voldemort's radar, but Voldemort had kept tabs on him as someone would likely be a future asset. However, he was not to that point yet. His upset state was not preferable, but it was not critical.

Still he would keep watch. Dissatisfied followers sometimes required a cautious approach and they needed to be watched with a critical eye least their dissatisfaction morph into less desirable and more direct foolish actions. For now, observation was necessary.

Standing without giving any notice to the crowd around him, he watched a few flinch and jump in surprise with considerable amusement as he observed them with a cool eye. "I apologise," he said smoothly but without any element in his voice that would indicate he felt any remorse, "but I have other matters to attend to."

Giving a curt nod, he dismissed himself without a worry as he stepped silently through the crowd. His target was easy to spot likely as she had been hiding in the shadows as close to his presence as she dared. It was typical Bella behaviour and it was easy to meet her eyes and gesture for her to follow him.

He did not bother check to see if she was doing as he wished. He knew she would follow behind him like a well trained puppy. He was correct as, when he stepped outside onto the veranda and closed the door behind him, she was behind him and standing to attention like a soldier.

The balcony was well lit with a thousand pixies enchanted to float above. Voldemort knew this well and he knew there were people in the garden who could potentially be able to glance up and see the two of them.

It was what he intended.

Stepping towards her, he watched her stiffen out of longing rather than fear, but he knew it would not seem like that to others. Eager to dismiss such an impression, he curled his hand around her uncovered shoulder. She shivered instantly her eyes lighting up and her face breaking into a smile.

He did not say anything. No one would hear them and he hardly needed to say anything to Bella. He only leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Kissing had never been something he had taken much enjoyment in usually labelling it as too intimate and too soft to gain any real enjoyment from. It was especially the case now when he was careful to keep his movements slow and in a way that would indicate some level of fondness for those who happened to see the display. There was no desire that lit in him as he went through the motions for only exactly thirty seconds before he pulled away.

The grin that lit Bella's face was large, but he ignored it. He only mentally ticked through his plan. The public needed hints and suggestions. Having already solidified his planned marriage in his mind it was nearly time for that pressing announcement but first he needed to ensure it would be effective.


End file.
